DISCLAIMER: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Paramount Television and Pet Fly Productions. No money has been or will be made from this work of fiction. This story belongs to the author. Permission is given to archive.

RATING: G

THANKS TO: As always, the many friends, fans and writers in the Sentinel universe for friendship and inspiration. Special thanks to Barb, as always, for beta reading and all the rest.

This is a missing scene to the fourth season episode "The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg" and contains spoilers for that episode. Viewing the episode before reading is highly recommended. Also contains minor references/spoilers for "S2P1", "S2P2", "Warriors" and "Night Shift."

Feedback is always welcome.

Blair and Jim walked side by side down the hospital corridor toward the bank of elevators. Blair could barely feel his feet striking the floor, or feel anything else for that matter, except for an odd tingling sensation that coursed throughout his body. Jim's words to him just a few moments before had struck him like a bolt of lightning, and for the first time in days he actually felt as if he might still be truly alive. When they arrived at the elevators, one miraculously opened immediately before them.

"Here we go, Chief," Jim said, and Blair suddenly felt the gentle pressure of his partner's hand on his back, guiding him first into the empty elevator. The part of his mind that still seemed to be functioning noted it as if from a great distance, yet reveled in the touch and the slight lingering sensation of warmth from Jim's hand. He had a hard time believing that it was real, since he had been certain that he would never be this close to Jim, ever again.

As the doors hissed shut before them, Blair registered the pounding of his heart. A tiny blossom of hope seemed to have begun within him at Jim's words, yet he was afraid to give in to it. He was afraid to let himself feel again. The nightmare of the last two days replayed itself in his mind as they traveled down to the basement garage. Since Naomi had, with all of her best intentions, emailed his doctoral thesis to her publisher friend his life, his world had spun out of control.

He didn't remember ever having felt so lost, so out of control. As his life had crashed down around him, he had been so overwhelmed by the anxiety, anger, shock, sorrow, and despair that he eventually could feel no more. It was as if a circuit breaker tripped inside of him because of the emotional overload. He no longer cared, he no longer wanted to care, because he didn't want to feel any more when all he could feel was pain and confusion. He couldn't remember when he had last slept or eaten, those things seemed not to matter any more. When he had looked in the bathroom mirror that morning, going through the motions of everyday life, he had barely recognized the face looking back at him.

The only thing he still felt, as a faint reminder of what feelings used to be, was a cold, aching hole in the vicinity of his heart where his friendship with Jim used to reside. His brain was barely functioning, because the hurtful things that Jim had said to him kept filling his mind in an endless cycle.

"There's nothing to say, Chief. It's all been said. It's over…there's no going back."

…It's over….

…It's over….

He knew that Jim had been terribly stunned and shaken by the public disclosure of his sentinel abilities, and the resultant media whirlwind, but the way he had blamed and pushed Blair away had wounded him more than he ever could have thought possible.

Even as his head had told him that Jim's reaction was predictable, with his well-established "fear-based response" tendencies, his heart was still crushed by the accusations and rejection from his friend. He didn't think that he could ever get those images out of his mind, the images of the stony countenance and icy glares that Jim usually reserved for criminals, but had been aimed at him instead. Those icy glares had frozen his soul.

"Uh, we're here, Chief. Let's go."

Blair suddenly realized that Jim was speaking to him, and that the elevator doors were standing open before them. Jim's hand again gently propelled him forward, and they walked down the row of cars to the truck and climbed in. Even as he automatically fastened his seat belt and they rolled forward and out of the garage, his sense of unreality persisted. He had forced himself, earlier that day, to accept that he would never be part of Jim's life again.

Just a few hours before, he had finally decided on the only course of action that he had left. It was the only thing that could be fair to Jim, regardless of his personal consequences. If their relationship, their partnership, their friendship was over, it was the last thing that he could do to honor what they once had, and what it had meant to him. As he had come to his decision, he had felt a sense of calm detachment overtake him, as he committed to letting go of the life he had known and loved.

His memory of the press conference was a blur, and seemed to come from an odd perspective outside of his body. Part of him, he knew, had read his prepared statement through a haze of pain and tears. There had seemed to be another part of him, though, that had stood aside and coldly observed a stranger, some other former doctoral candidate that spoke in a tremulous and broken voice, and then stumbled out from behind the podium and out of the door. He had been certain that the detached observer was all that was left, if anything, of the former Blair Sandburg.

Now, as Jim pulled the truck away from the hospital garage, Blair struggled with the spark of hope that Jim's words had ignited in his chest. He wasn't sure that he dared to acknowledge it, dared to believe what Jim had said...

"…the best cop I've ever met…."

"…a great friend…."

What if he had heard Jim wrong? Jim couldn't have called him "…the best cop I've ever met…." Cop? What if he had only heard the other things because he desperately wanted, needed to hear them? The accusations, the anger, the rejection still spun unceasingly through his mind. What if his mind had actually broken down the way his heart had, and it had been merely an illusion? He was unsure of his grasp of reality, he knew how stress played tricks on the mind. His mind was as confused as his emotions had been.

"Hold on, Chief."

Blair snapped back in his seat as Jim's right arm suddenly flew against his chest. The truck jolted and rocked, and he heard Jim curse quietly as he was unable to avoid all of the gaping potholes in the street. Blair gasped, and the icy chill in his chest receded slightly as he felt his eyes grow damp. Even after Jim pulled his arm back, he could still feel the echo of its warmth on his skin. That familiar, unconscious gesture of protection that Jim had performed a thousand times before felt so comfortable, so right, that it threatened to break open the floodgate of his emotions.

His mind rebelled at the threat to his tenuous emotional control. He couldn't stand to climb back aboard that rollercoaster of feelings. So he accepted Jim's words this time, and their relationship recovered, but what about the next time? He didn't think that he could take a next time, the next rejection from the man he still thought of as his best friend.

He thought that Jim had figured it out the last time they had such a crisis between them, that Jim had learned to trust that he wouldn't betray him or hurt him. His best friend had pushed him away then over Alex, a criminal female sentinel, and he had died, cold and alone in the University fountain as a result. At least that time, when Jim managed to bring him back, he had a life to come back for.

This time he had no life to come back to. He would no longer be welcome at the University, at the police station, by former friends and colleagues who thought he was a fraud. He had no job, no career…and his best friend? He just wasn't sure. All that he knew that he had left was Naomi, and he knew that she could detach with love.

The real Blair Sandburg, the one who had happily intertwined his life with that of Jim Ellison, had been mortally wounded again by Jim's anger, accusations, and rejection. He didn't have the strength, or the conviction, to fight back this time. It was time to let go. Even as his body sat silently in place next to his former partner, his mind began drifting away to a quiet, safe internal place.

"You all right?" Jim asked, struggling with the wheel after they bounced from yet another pothole.

"All right." He responded automatically, Jim's words already a distant echo.

Jim gave him a quick look, then turned his attention back to his driving as the truck hit yet another large hole that rattled both men in their seats.

--------------------

Damn, Jim thought, they were supposed to have filled these potholes last week. After another several minutes of careening from edge to edge of the lane to try to miss the worst spots, and several huge jolts when he failed, he finally gave up and took a left to detour over to Riverside. He knew that the road crew recently finished there, and it would be much smoother. It might or might not be faster, because of the drawbridge that let the ships through to the inner harbor, but he didn't care right now. Anything to avoid those bone jarring holes.

He let out a sigh of relief as the truck settled onto the smoother pavement. Much better. He glanced over at his partner.

"Sorry about that, Chief." He knew that Blair had bounced hard against the door at least twice, but he hadn't made a sound. Usually Jim heard every moan and groan, as Blair was not one to keep his pain to himself. He wondered if he had hit his head or something. "Hey, you okay over there?"

"OK."

That quiet and brief response was surprising. Usually he would have gotten a ten-minute lecture on why he should get shoulder belts installed in the truck, about padding the interior of the cab, or at the very least a suggestion to get new heavy-duty shocks. He didn't think he had ever heard a one-word response from his partner in as long as he had known him.

He looked again at his friend, silent in the seat beside him, and he became concerned as he let his senses focus in on him.

A quiet Blair was a rarity. He had seen him quiet before, and had known that he was working things out in his head. There were certainly a lot of things for him to work out right now. But this was different. It wasn't just his silence. No foot was tapping, no hands were pounding out a jungle rhythm on his knees. His face was too pale, his eyes too large and too dark, and his breathing and heart rate were too fast. The expression on his face was…he realized that he couldn't tell. Somehow he found that disturbing, he realized.

Blair's emotions were usually so transparent, so easily read on his face and in his eyes, especially by those who knew him. Even by Jim, who knew that he was no expert in the emotions department. But now, glancing over as he drove, it seemed that Blair's face, what he could see of it, had all of the expression of a wax statue. Jim realized that, other than their brief talk in the hospital, he had only looked at his friend in anger recently. He had been too upset, too overwhelmed by everything to deal with Blair, so he hadn't. He had barely looked at him, avoided being near him, and had hardly spoken to him other than to vent his anger.

That blank look on Blair's face, and his continued silence, bothered him for some indefinable reason. Although he couldn't remember ever seeing Blair look that way before, or be so silent and passive before, that look seemed all too familiar to him. What was it about that expression, or lack thereof, that hovered at the edge of his memory and made him so uneasy?

Fortunately, just then they had to stop at a light. He decided to take a better look at his partner.

"Hey, you bang your head or something? Blair?" He reached over and grasped his upper arm and pulled, hoping to turn him so he could better examine his face.

After what seemed like an eternity, Blair slowly turned his head towards him.

"No."

The flat, lifeless tone of that single word worried Jim almost more than Blair's silence had. He made a sensory sweep of his partner's face and head, checking for any sign that he had been injured from all of the jolts and bumps. There was no sign of a head injury, at least externally.

Looking into Blair's face, the blank expression and the vacant look in those usually warm and vibrant eyes chilled him down to his bones. He was stunned by what he saw and stared deeply into his partner's eyes, trying to find someone he recognized. After a few moments Blair slowly turned his head back to stare again out through the windshield.

The reason for his worry finally hit Jim with a jolt as the light changed and he had to return his attention to his driving. He had seen a look like that before, and he had hoped that he would never see it again. It was the look that he had seen a few times on young soldiers under his command in the military, young men who had been through too much, too quickly. Shell-shocked, he thought, was what they had called it. From what he could understand, it happened when the mind, the emotions, were so overwhelmed that they shut down in self-protection. Sometimes it was brief and temporary, but sometimes the men were never quite the same again.

He prayed that he was wrong, that he was overreacting. Maybe Blair was just lost in thought. He had been through a lot in the last couple of days, between the hubbub over his thesis and the shootings. Jim felt a small prickle of fear in his gut as he looked over again at his too-quiet partner. Nothing had changed. Blair was as motionless and blank as he had been moments before.

"Chief…" he said, his throat tight and his voice coming out only as a loud whisper.

Jim grew increasingly disturbed as he waited for a response that never came. Blair didn't move or speak. Even more worrisome, Jim could sense that there was no difference in his breathing or heart beat, could find no physical sign that Blair had heard him. There was no response at all. He began to feel truly frightened.

"Blair," he said again, louder and more urgently. He reached over and squeezed his friend's arm again.

"What?" Another flat, one-word reply was all that he got. Blair didn't move.

Jim fought against a sense of rising concern. Unfortunately, he didn't think he was wrong. Blair did look like he was shell-shocked. He had seen no sign of recognition in those eyes, no trace of the vitality, intelligence and humor that he was so used to finding there. At least Blair was able to react, to respond, that was good. Maybe it meant that he wasn't totally out of reach. But it wasn't nearly enough, this pale imitation of his friend. Something was wrong with Blair, something had happened to him. Jim wasn't sure what that was, but he felt certain that his partner needed help.

Jim suddenly realized with irritation that traffic seemed to be slowing around them. Extending his vision, he could see blocks ahead that the drawbridge was rising to let ships through. Traffic in all directions would be frozen for at least 30 minutes this time of day.

He couldn't just sit there and stare at the silent form next to him, and hope that Blair wouldn't get worse before he could get him some help. He remembered with a chill that he had seen some shell-shocked men get to the point that they no longer responded or functioned at all. The thought of his exuberant, energetic young friend becoming a cold and catatonic shell terrified him. Although he wasn't sure what he would do, he had to do something, and do it now. With the bridge up, and a traffic snarl building with each passing moment, he knew that it was up to him to act.

Glancing around, he recognized the neighborhood and turned roughly into an alley on their right to an angry blare of horns. Several turns and detours later, ignoring several traffic laws and irritating numerous drivers in his haste, he pulled the truck to a stop and turned the engine off.

He had parked next to a small, mostly-ignored city park that he and Blair had found one day while they had been out biking. It was only a stretch of grass, a few flowering trees, and a couple of picnic tables, but it was quiet and peaceful. They had both loved it immediately, mostly because it was usually deserted, even though it was on the water. It was one of their favorite places to come to talk, to toss a football, or to just sit quietly together to unwind. The surrounding neighborhood was mostly scheduled for destruction and renovation, so few people lived nearby. He hoped that its familiarity would help to reach Blair.

Jim looked over at his partner, still motionless at the other end of the seat, then lowered his head to rest his forehead against the steering wheel. What had happened? What had caused Blair to disappear within himself? He had thought that everything was all right once they had talked in the hospital, when he had seen shock battle with gratitude on Blair's face, then heard him say "thanks."

Well, he knew that not everything was all right, but he had thought it was all right between them, and he had hoped that, at least for now, it was enough. Had he said something wrong? Had he not said enough? Had something else happened to Blair when he wasn't around, or wasn't paying attention? He had been so wrapped up in his own fears, his own problems, that he had not for a minute considered how difficult it all must have been for his partner. Blair's life had been shattered as much, or more, than his own. What was it that pushed him too far? He pressed his forehead against the wheel. This was totally foreign territory here.

He had seen Blair handle so much. Terrorists, bombs, kidnappings, getting shot, always by his side through all kinds of dangerous situations…and he always bounced back. Sure, sometimes it took him a little time, a few hours of meditation or some time out on the balcony thinking it through. Jim would never have guessed it when they first met, but Blair was tougher than he looked. He had learned that he could rely on Blair to manage, to cope, no matter what came up. So he did, without a second thought.

But Blair wasn't just handling it this time. He wasn't sure what, if anything, was going on in that head, wasn't sure that the brilliant and complex mind that he had come to recognize was functioning at all. It was as if Blair had crawled into some deep, internal hole and pulled it in after him. He clenched his fists around the steering wheel in frustration. Sentinel abilities didn't extend to mind reading, and even on his best days, and when Blair was fully functioning, he could rarely figure out Blair's thought processes. What was he going to do to help his friend?

That was one of Blair's strengths, his ability to get into people's heads and understand them, then to help them. It had never been his. He felt completely inadequate to the task ahead, but he knew that he had to try. He feared that Blair's very sanity depended on him.

Jim raised his head from the steering wheel and took a deep breath. He decided to start with what he knew. He had been a medic, so he knew a little bit about shock that he figured he could use to help Blair. He knew that it could be physical, mental, and emotional, not just one single thing. So they would start with the physical, something he knew how to deal with. He reached over and grasped Blair's arm firmly.

"Blair…"

He waited until that barely familiar face slowly turned towards him. Suppressing a shudder at the emptiness he saw there, he tried for a friendly and comforting expression completely at odds with the fear he felt within.

"Look, Chief, I'm gonna go and grab us something to eat. I'm starved, and Zirelli's is right up the street. Why don't you just sit here and relax for a few minutes, and I'll run over and get us a couple of sandwiches. I'll be right back, OK?" He thought he detected a faint nod, so he turned and climbed out of the truck and set out at a trot.

Zirelli's deli was only a couple of blocks away, and one of the few businesses still open in the area. Blair loved their vegetarian sandwiches. He placed his order and paid for it, then paced nervously across the front of the store as he waited, ignoring the curious stare of the counter man.

He was fairly certain that Blair had eaten little, if anything, since even before everything had hit the fan. He had been working nonstop on completing the draft of his thesis, and his partner had a habit of forgetting things like food and sleep when he was fully involved in something. Getting some food and liquids into him had to be a start. He wished that it was only that simple, but he knew it was not. Jim had seen Blair exhausted and run-down before, but it had never affected him like this.

Grabbing the box of food and drinks from the counter, he hurried back to the truck. Blair was still sitting exactly as he had left him, another disturbing first. He remembered painfully the many times that he had to beg or threaten him to stay in the truck, when it had been a dangerous situation on the job. As often as not, it hadn't worked. It was just not in Blair to stay still, at least not before now. Now he wished desperately that he would fidget or complain, that he would just do something instead of sitting in silence.

Setting the box down on the nearby picnic table, he strode back to the truck and opened the passenger door. Pasting on that friendly and comforting expression again, he hoped, he patted Blair's shoulder and left his hand gently resting there.

"OK, Chief, I got you your favorite, Veggie Special #3, and some of Z's famous chicken soup. Let's go over and chow down, what do you say?" After another eternity, Blair turned and looked at him in that disconnected way. Once he started moving Jim took his arm and carefully pulled him from the truck and guided him over to the picnic table, a hand always on his back. He hoped that maintaining contact would keep Blair from drifting farther away from him.

He felt a wave of fear course through him as he watched Blair walk beside him. That walk was so unlike the Blair he knew. There was no energy, no bounce, just a steady, measured pace. Where normally Blair's attention would be distracted by everything that he noticed around him, now he simply gazed at the ground in front of him as he walked. Jim clenched his jaw in frustration and resisted the urge to push Blair along faster, or just grab him by both shoulders and shake him until he came back to normal. He hated the feeling of fear and helplessness that filled him at the sight of his partner. He didn't do helpless well.

Blair sat in his usual place at the picnic table, facing the water, gazing straight ahead of him. Jim pulled the food out of the box and divided it between the two of them. He actually had enough food for three people, he had just wanted to be sure that he got something that Blair would eat. Setting a sandwich, a large styrofoam cup of soup, a bottle of juice and a giant cookie in front of his partner, he moved to the other side of the table. He sat facing Blair, just a little ways down the seat so that Blair could still see the view that he so enjoyed. Or, at least, that he used to so enjoy. He wasn't sure that Blair was really seeing it now.

Jim started in on his own sandwich, then noticed that Blair had made no move toward his food. Those empty eyes never budged from the water. He waited a few moments, but there was no sign of movement in his passive friend. This was going to be harder than he thought. Sighing, he reached over and unwrapped the sandwich and opened the other containers, pushing them over so that they touched his partner's still hands. He grasped one of Blair's hands in his and placed it on half of the sandwich, not letting go of the wrist that he squeezed lightly.

"Here you go, Chief. Just the way you like it, with extra sprouts." After a moment Blair looked down and took notice of the food. He grasped the sandwich and began to eat, slowly and mechanically, but he did eat. Jim barely tasted his own food as he watched Blair in horrified fascination. He could have sworn that he chewed each bite the same number of times, took the same number of bites between sips of soup or juice, in an exact and steady rhythm. It was like watching a robot. Blair never looked up. When he had finished the juice, Jim opened a latte and set it in front of him, and he drank that too in turn. At least he had food and liquids in him, Jim thought, it had to help.

When they had both finished, Jim considered offering Blair the extra sandwich that he had bought, but changed his mind. He was surprised that he had eaten as much as he had. Eating so much on a stomach that had likely been empty for more than a day, it was probably a good idea not to push their luck, a good thing that he didn't eat fast. Hopefully the food would stay down. He wasn't sure that his own sandwich would stay down, the way his stomach was churning in worry for his friend.

Jim cleaned up the containers and wrappers and stuffed it all in the box. Blair seemed to just notice that he was no longer eating right about the time that Jim had everything packed up. He was slowly looking up when Jim sat down directly in front of him and put a hand tentatively on his forearm.

"I'm glad you were hungry, Chief. Was everything all right?"

Blair nodded slightly. "Thank you."

Jim was surprised and pleased that he spoke, even if it was flat and expressionless. He wasn't too far gone yet, he thought.

Now came the hard part.

He ran his hands over his face, took a deep breath, then leaned forward and put both of his hands on Blair's forearms on the table. Blair's touch had always grounded him, helped him come back from a zone-out, so he hoped desperately that it would somehow help Blair come back. He prayed internally to every deity he could think of, to be able to find the words that would reach his partner. Looking into that expressionless face, he forged ahead.

"Blair, I need you to look at me, buddy. I need you to listen to me here. I know that something is wrong, but I don't know what it is." His throat was tight with fear, and he struggled to keep a calm and even tone. "I want to help you, Chief, but I don't know how. I don't know what you need. Talk to me, Blair. Please."

He scanned his partner's face hopefully, and thought that he saw a flicker of emotion in those eyes before Blair slowly turned his eyes downward. What he saw confused him, though. He had expected to see sorrow, sadness, even anger, but what he saw looked like fear. What was Blair afraid of? Afraid of him? Afraid of what he might say? He felt the slightest pull of Blair's arms away from his, and he grasped them even more firmly.

"No, I'm not letting you go, Chief. Not until you tell me what's going on, until we get this worked out."

This time he sensed a response in his friend, could hear his breathing and heart rate speed up. He hoped desperately that it was a good thing. Even as he held on to Blair's arms, he could see his shoulders hunch slightly and his head tilt down. It looked like he was trying to curl into himself. Jim refused to let go.

"Blair, please, talk to me. Are you hurt? Are you sick? Should we go to the hospital?" He hadn't sensed any obvious symptoms of illness, but then again he had paid little attention to Blair for the last couple of days. He thought it was a place to start.

Blair shook his head slightly, but made no sound.

"Good, good." Now Jim had no idea where to go next, so he just plowed on. "Chief, I really want to know what's going on with you. Talk to me. I know that everything is a mess right now, but we'll figure it out somehow."

Silence reigned. Jim fought the growing fear in his gut and asked the question that he most feared.

"Blair, is it me? Are you angry at me, upset with me?"

Blair's breathing and pulse sped up again. Oh, God, thought Jim. It is me. What did I do to send him over the edge, and how do I undo it? His heart leapt into his throat.

"Look, you have every right to be mad at me, I know that I really let you have it. I was just so hurt, Chief, that you would break our agreement, that you would go ahead and release your thesis without letting me read it first. When those reporters started in with their questions, and knew all about my sentinel abilities…it was my worst nightmare come true. I lost it. I just lost it.

You wrote, in your thesis, that I respond out of fear. I remember reading that the time that I read your draft. And you were right. That's exactly what I did. I was so scared that my career was over and I was gonna be a lab rat for the rest of my life… and I dumped it all on you. Without thinking. I'm sorry, Blair…I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I blamed you. I wish I could take it all back, take back all of the last two days, but I can't.

Please, Blair, talk to me…yell at me…curse at me…I'm sure I deserve it. Whatever you want to say, I want to hear it. Just talk to me." The desperate pleading tone and the tremor in his own voice surprised him. So much for keeping cool and calm.

Blair didn't look up, but he did respond, so softly that another man might not have been able to hear him. "Can't."

Jim was stunned. "You can't talk to me? Is that it?" He struggled to maintain his composure, to keep his hurt and frustration out of his voice. "Okay, Blair, if you can't talk to me, can you talk to someone else? A counselor, maybe? We can do that." He hated the thought that, if the real problem was something between the two of them, that Blair would rather discuss it with a stranger, but his wishes didn't matter right now. All that mattered was getting his partner back. He cast around in his mind to think of a way that Blair could see someone right away, because he didn't think that Blair could wait a week or two for an appointment. He knew that he couldn't.

"What about that psychologist that's on call sometimes for the department, Dr. Carroll, Dr. Carter, whatever her name was. Didn't you like her when we worked with her on the Donnelly case? I can give her a call." He thought that she wasn't too bad, for a shrink, and he was certain that he could convince her that this was an emergency.

Blair shook his head, barely. "No," was all that came out.

Great, Jim thought, now he thinks that I think he's crazy or something. Jim allowed his head to fall forward in frustration. His feelings of desperation and urgency threatened to turn into outright panic. What would Blair do in this situation? He realized that he didn't know. Blair's ability to work so well with people seemed to come so naturally to him, that Jim couldn't think of a single specific thing that Blair would do that he could copy. He raised his head and decided to just keep talking, no matter what came out. Maybe something would strike a chord in his partner.

"Blair, come on, help me out here, buddy. You said you can't talk to me, and you won't talk with a counselor. What can I do?

I meant what I said, Chief. You are a great friend and a great partner. I'm so sorry that I forgot that for a while, and sorry that I haven't told you before. You know that I'm not any good at this kinda stuff, talking about my feelings and all that. I just figured that you knew that was how I felt about you. I mean, you usually know what's going on with me before I do, don't you?"

With all of his senses focused tightly on his partner, Jim thought that he sensed his heart speeding up again. He also noticed the trembling in the hands that he still held firmly on the table. Maybe something was getting through. He grasped eagerly at the faint glimmer of hope.

"I know you can hear me, Blair. Please, please talk to me. Whatever it is, whatever is wrong, I want to help. I don't know if you can forgive me for the things I said, but I'll do whatever it takes to get past this. If you'll just tell me what it is, what I can do…" He looked down and noticed the white-knuckled grip he had on his partner's arms. He released his death grip, and left his hands, now trembling along with Blair's, just resting there. His voice broke, as he felt a tightness in his throat and a sting in his eyes. "Chief, you're my best friend. I can't stand seeing you like this. I need you back, buddy, all of you…."

He was startled when Blair suddenly yanked his arms free and stood up. He watched his partner stumble over towards the water, stopping a few feet away from the bank and wrapping his arms tightly around his stomach, his head down. Jim had seen the flush in his face as he walked by, and the tears forming in his eyes. Even as he was relieved to see reaction and movement by his friend, he was torn by the haunted expression that he had seen as well. He stood up and walked over to join him, stopping finally at his side. His hand automatically drifted to his partner's shoulder, and he was shocked when it was shrugged off immediately.

"Blair…"

Blair shook his head slowly, but didn't look up.

"I can't. I just can't do it, Jim."

The depth of sadness expressed in those few words tore at Jim's soul.

"Do what, Chief?"

"This. You apologize, or make a joke, then everything is supposed to be all right again. Well, it's not. It's not all right."

Jim took a deep breath and tried to collect himself, determined that he would not let Blair drift away again, no matter what. He tried again.

"I don't understand, Blair. But I want to. I want to understand."

"I know, Jim. I know you don't understand. That's what makes this so hard."

"Then tell me, Chief. Whatever it is, I can take it. I want to hear it. Just don't shut me out."

"Like you shut me out? Again?" Blair's voice grew louder and stronger, much to Jim's relief.

"Again…?"

"You believed that I released my thesis, that I broke our agreement that you would get to read it first. You thought that I only cared about getting my research published, no matter what it did to you.

How could you believe that? After the three years we've worked together, lived together, how could you think I would do that to you? You wouldn't even listen to me, you couldn't consider for a minute that I would never do something like that to you.

I can't tell you how much that hurt me, Jim. You're my best friend. I thought you knew me better than that, trusted me more than that. That you respected me enough to give me the benefit of the doubt."

Now that the floodgates had opened, there was no stopping the torrent of words. Jim could see that Blair was shaking with emotion.

"It was just like with Alex. You believed that I was deliberately working with her behind your back, when all I did was try to help her cope with her senses and find a safe way for the two of you to meet. I never thought that she could be a criminal, I never would have helped her in any criminal activity. You said that I had broken a trust, but you didn't trust me that I wasn't trying to deceive you or hurt you. You shut me out then, too. You wouldn't talk to me, you kicked me out of the loft…and then she killed me…." He had to stop to take several gasping breaths.

Jim's worry increased anew as he listened to his partner's words spill out faster and faster. Blair's heart was pounding, he was visibly shaking, and his breathing was too fast. When just a few moments before he had been concerned at his friend's lack of emotion, now he was worried that it was too much, that his body was laboring too hard.

"I'll always be grateful that you brought me back, Jim. I owe you my life, but I can't just forget everything that happened the way you seem to. After you left the hospital that day, you went on like everything was all right, like everything was patched up and forgotten. We never talked about it, never talked about what had happened between us.

And now it happened again. You believed that I did the things you accused me of, that I deliberately did things that would hurt you. You didn't trust me. You assumed the worst of me, that I could treat you like that. You thought our friendship didn't mean anything to me.

And now you apologize, and everything's supposed to be all right and go on like nothing ever happened. Well, it can't. I can't."

Jim's heart ached as he saw the effort it took for Blair to go on, pouring out his inner turmoil, in his hoarse and wavering voice.

"I know you mean it, Jim, I know you're really sorry. I do. I believe you. And what you said at the hospital…it means a lot to me, man. But I can't go on here, wondering when's the next time, the next time you won't trust me, that you'll blame me without even taking the time to talk about it. The next time you shut down, push me away, turn my life upside down…." Blair turned his anguished face finally to meet Jim's eye, briefly, then quickly turned away again. "You are who you are. I accept that. But I…I can't do it again. I'm sorry, Jim, I'm just not strong enough to go through this again.

There's no reason for me to be here any more. I'm done at the university. Without my thesis, there's no reason for me to continue as a police observer, and Simon and the Chief aren't going to want me around any more after today. And maybe you were right, about wanting to turn off your senses. I have no right to tell you what you should do, it's your body, it's your life. Who am I to tell you who you are? You sure won't need me anymore.

I told you once that I didn't want to go back to my academic life after working with you, that it would be like jumping off a roller coaster and spending the rest of my life on a merry-go-round. Well, it's been great, Jim, but it's over. I don't have a ticket for either ride anymore.

It's time to go."

Blair finally ran out of steam and let his head drop to his chest, his breath coming in wracking gasps that sounded more like sobs to the sentinel.

Jim stood in stunned silence, Blair's words echoing in his mind. He had felt each word like a stab in his heart. It really was his fault, all his fault, that Blair had gotten to this point. He had never intended to hurt Blair, and never realized how deeply he had hurt him.

He knew that he had never been closer to another human being, and would never have as good a friend as his partner. If there was anyone in this world that he knew that he could trust, it was Blair, and he had trusted him with his life, and his sanity, more times than he could count. Without Blair in his life, he knew that he would long ago have been dead or insane, unable to deal with his sentinel abilities.

It was his own stupid fear, he thought, fear of closeness, fear of betrayal, that caused him to lash out without thinking. And Blair had paid the price. Again.

He had been so grateful that he didn't lose him when Alex had drowned him in the University fountain. Incacha's spirit had come to him and showed him how to bring his friend back to life, and Jim had been so relieved, so thankful that he didn't have words to express it. Now he realized that he should have found the words. Just like he needed to find the words now. He knew that he wouldn't have another chance.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the terrifying sound of his partner in trouble. As he whirled to face him, he saw Blair's chest heaving in pained gasps, his head jerking up and down with each frantic effort to catch his breath. Swaying on his feet, his arms hanging limply at his sides with his hands grasping desperately at the air, Blair was having some kind of attack. Flat and expressionless not long before, his face was now filled with panic. Jim grabbed the closest arm and put his other arm around Blair's back, catching him as he wavered and lost his balance. He held him close as he half walked, half carried him back to the picnic table and sat him on the nearest seat.

Blair was barely able to stay on the seat, his body jerking against rigid muscles in its efforts to take in enough oxygen. He turned his tortured face to Jim's, unable to speak, his fists clenched at his chest. Jim's own breath caught in his throat.

"God, Blair…." He quickly straddled the seat next to his struggling partner. If this was one of the anxiety attacks Blair had talked about having, he couldn't remember it sounding this bad. Jim wrapped one arm gently across his chest to keep him from falling as Blair doubled over, straining for each breath. He began rubbing and massaging his back and shoulders with his free hand. He hoped that he wouldn't pass out in his arms. "Chief, I've got you, buddy. Take deep breaths. Take slow, deep breaths. Just relax and let me hold you, let me do the work here."

The pounding of Blair's heart and his frantic efforts at breathing frightened Jim to his core. Blair had told him that the attacks weren't really serious, but it felt horrible to him. What if it wasn't an anxiety attack, but something more serious? He ducked his head to look into Blair's face, his stomach twisting as he saw the tears leaking out from eyes that were closed in pain. He tried to force his voice into an imitation of the calm, rational voice that Blair used with him when he had trouble with his senses, although he was about as far from calm as he could imagine.

"Okay, Blair, work with me here. You're gonna be all right. You've done this before, you told me that, so you're gonna get through this. You're gonna breathe, slow and deep. Slow and deep, and you're gonna let your muscles relax. I'm holding on to you, you're not going anywhere, so you can just let go and relax." He gently rubbed Blair's back, neck and shoulders in rhythm with his words, and just kept on talking in the most calm and soothing tone he could muster up. Gradually he heard and felt Blair's breathing become easier, his heart pounding not as hard, and he could feel the rigid muscles loosening up under his hand. He could feel the strain in his own chest loosen in relief.

The anxiety attack loosened its grip on his partner, and he began to tilt forward against Jim's arm as his muscles began to relax in exhaustion. Deciding to take a risk, considering everything that had just been said, but needing to give his partner support, Jim eased Blair over towards him. After just a moment of resistance, Blair let go and slumped against his chest, one arm caught between them, and his head resting just under Jim's chin. Jim didn't care right then if Blair was just too exhausted to resist, or if he didn't mind being close. He just knew that he couldn't let his partner go. Not out of his grasp, and not out of his life.

As he thankfully felt Blair's limp body approach a more normal rhythm next to his, Jim extended his senses around him. The drawbridge must have come back down, because traffic had resumed its regular flow through the neighborhood. He thought about calling an ambulance or driving Blair to the hospital, regardless of what he had said earlier. He feared as much for his friend's physical health as much as his mental health, after what had just happened. Jim wasn't sure, as resilient as he knew his friend to be, how much of a toll all of this had taken on him.

He continued rubbing his partner's back, shoulders and neck gently as he rested against him. Blair's gasping slowly receded to a soft panting, and he felt the furious pounding of Blair's heart against his chest ease gradually. Jim decided to give it a try.

"Chief, how are you doing? Look, why don't we run in to the hospital and get you checked out? You, uh, didn't sound too good there for a few minutes. What do you say?"

Blair's head bounced twice gently against his chest. "No…be all right…just a minute…."

Jim closed his eyes in frustration. Some things never changed, he thought, Blair never wanted help if it could be avoided. He wasn't going to fight him over this right now, though. Right now he needed to figure out what to say, what to do, to keep Blair from leaving. He felt Blair push against his chest to sit up, and he let go but helped steady him with an arm on his back.

"Thanks. I'm all right." Blair leaned forward with his hands on his knees, stretching his back and chest and taking long, deep breaths. He shakily rubbed his hands over his face, wiping away the sheen of perspiration and the moisture on his cheeks. Jim thought he saw a glimpse of embarrassment on his partner's face as he fought for control and a calm demeanor.

"Blair…," he started, but was quickly interrupted.

"Jim, I'm sorry. You don't need to say anything." Blair shifted on the seat, turning slightly away from him. "I…I didn't mean to dump on you. It's my problem. Look, why don't we get going back to the precinct." He rose from his seat, but Jim swiftly grabbed his arm before he could move away.

"No, Chief, we're not going anywhere, not till we talk about this. It's way overdue." He rose and grasped Blair by the shoulders. "Please sit down, Blair. We've gotta talk about this." He kept his hands on Blair's shoulders as he slowly sat back down, with Blair reluctantly turning back and straddling the seat facing him.

Blair looked down at his hands, shaking his head. "Jim, I…."

"Please, Blair. Give me a chance here. I know how hard it must have been for you to say all of that, but I wanted to hear it. I needed to hear it. I hope its not too late, but I need you to hear me, too, buddy. I can't just let you walk away like this." He reached over and gently grasped Blair's chin and tipped his head up, Blair's eyes meeting his. The combination of sadness and hope that he saw reflected there haunted him, but revived his determination to do whatever it took to keep his partner by his side. "OK?"

Blair looked deeply into his eyes, then nodded.

Jim let go of the breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding, and released Blair's chin. As he watched his partner look down again, he took a deep breath and bared his soul to his best friend.

"Chief…Blair…please don't do this. Don't go. I know there's a lot for you to figure out right now, with everything that has happened, but I want to be there for you. With you. To help you through it. The way you've helped me with this sentinel thing.

You're right, we should have talked after Alex, after…after she killed you." He swallowed, trying to relieve the lump that quickly grew in his throat at the thought of that day. "I just didn't know what to say, I was still so confused by everything that happened, how she affected me. Confused and… ashamed, ashamed of how I treated you. And I was so relieved that I was able to bring you back…that you were alive…and that you wanted to stay…there weren't words enough to say how I felt. I thought…I wanted to believe that we were okay once all that was over.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't right that I lashed out at you over your thesis being released. I should have known better, trusted you, should have known that you would never do that to me. I was so afraid, so freaked out at what was happening… I do trust you, Chief, more than I have ever trusted anyone in my life.

I…I've never had anyone do for me what you did today, Blair. You gave up your life for me, to protect me, just as sure as if you took a bullet for me. You said you're not strong enough…my God, Blair, that took more guts, more strength than I can ever imagine having.

Blair, another thing you were right about…I can't just turn off these abilities, it's part of who I am. I don't know if it's fate, or destiny… but it's meant to be, even if I don't understand it. You've taught me that. That means that I need you, the "Shaman of the Great City," to guide me with them.

But with or without my sentinel abilities, I need you, Chief. I want you to stay. I need my guide, my roommate, my partner… my friend. I don't know what's gonna happen, but I know that we can work it out. Together. All I can do, all I can say, is that I hope you can give me another chance. Please give me a chance to rebuild your trust in me.

I don't want another partner, and I know I could never find a better friend than you. You've been a great friend, my best friend. I'm sorry it's taken so long, it's taken all this, for me to get it through my thick head the kind of friend, the kind of man you are. A better friend than I deserve.

Please, Blair, stay. We'll work things out, whatever it takes..."

His voice cracked as he ran out of things to say. He reached over and grasped one of Blair's wrists, squeezing firmly, then let his hands fall loosely into his lap. He felt as exhausted as if he had just run a marathon, the tension in his muscles and the intensity of his emotions draining him. He took a few deep breaths, trying to regroup, and waited for a response.

Blair slowly raised his head and met Jim's eyes. That familiar expressive face had returned, and Jim watched as warring emotions fought there for dominance. Blair took several deep breaths, too, and started to speak, but had to clear this throat first before anything would come out. Jim strained to listen, his own heart pounding in hope and fear of what he would hear.

"Jim…" he started, struggling with his emotions, then swallowing and starting again in a low and strained voice. "Jim…I do want to stay, but…."

Jim leapt into the opening, relief washing over him. "Then do, Blair." He reached over and placed a hand high on his friend's shoulder, wrapping his fingers around to grasp the back of his neck gently. "We'll figure out what to do about everything. We can do this, Chief. We're friends, partners. I'll never forget it again. You have my word on that."

He watched nervously as Blair seemed to be searching his face for something, then he spotted what looked like a small gleam of warmth, of trust reappearing in Blair's eyes. "I've never known you to go back on your word, Jim. Are you sure…everything's such a mess right now…."

"Yes, I'm sure, Chief. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Blair looked down and studied his hands for a few moments. Jim felt a renewed wave of tension, waiting anxiously for his friend's reply. He held his breath as Blair looked up again to meet his glance.

"OK."

"OK? You'll stay, you'll give me another chance?"

"Yes. There's nowhere else I want to go, no place else I'd rather be, Jim."

Jim slumped in relief. "Thank you, Blair. Thank you."

Both men looked down momentarily, inhaling deeply in relief, then their eyes met again, two sets of blue eyes swimming with emotion. Jim squeezed Blair's neck gently, then pulled his friend forward into his chest in a rough but warm embrace. The feeling of Blair's arms slipping around his back, suddenly clutching tightly as if his life depended on it, warmed Jim's heart and chased away his pain and fear.

After just a moment, both men released their strangleholds on each other and sat back on the bench. Neither made eye contact as each rubbed his eyes and straightened his jacket, trying to recover from the emotional storm of the previous minutes. Both felt overwhelmed and a bit tentative with the leap their relationship had just taken. Neither knew for sure what would await them when they returned to the precinct, but both felt there was at least a chance now to see things through.

Jim cleared his throat. "Well, Chief, I guess we'd better get a move on. We'd better get back to the station and see what luck Joel is having with keeping Bartley on a leash."

The short laugh that he heard from his partner in response was the sweetest sound he thought he had ever heard, a sound he had feared never to hear again. Both men stood up stiffly and took a look around their favorite park as they started back toward the truck, suddenly realizing that the sun had come out and was warming their faces.

It seemed to be a good omen for the rebuilding of their friendship, their partnership, Jim thought, and perhaps a new level of trust and communication. He hoped that he was up to it, hoped that he could prove that he was worthy of the sacrifice that Blair had made. He wasn't sure what was going to happen with the media, with the department, with Blair and the university, but he was determined that he and Blair would work it out together. Because that's what friends and partners do.