Desperate Journey

 That night, they lingered around their communal campfire, at first sharing stories, teasing and laughing, and then more reflectively, as each gazed into the flickering flames.  In the evenings, Simon felt he could relax his vigil, trusting to Jim to warn them of the approach of any unfriendlies.  Drowsy, about to shamble off to his bedroll, he was forestalled when the youngest Ellison stirred restlessly, tossing the stick he’d been poking the coals with into the fire. 

“I’m sorry if this isn’t any of my business,” Steven began slowly, and paused to lick his lips nervously, “but I just do not understand why you had Jim’s name all over that paper.”

Jim stiffened and William frowned.  Naomi flinched and Simon grimaced.  Manuel watched impassively and seemed to merge into the shadows. 

Blair sighed. 

“Chief, you don’t have to explain anything,” Jim growled and Steven flushed, looking away.

“Yes, I think I do,” Sandburg countered.  “It’s a reasonable question.  You’re the only one who knows the answer but I bet probably everyone else here also wonders.”  Raking his hair back, he bit his lip while he gathered his thoughts, and then explained, “The paper wasn’t ever meant to be the final dissertation.  I’d written it for Jim and for whomever he might want to share it with.  I had planned another, more generic paper for submission.”

Naomi crossed her arms and bowed her head, her posture rigid with the immensity of the guilt she bore. 

“Mom, it wasn’t your fault, none of it.  It was mine,” he said firmly.  “I was careless.  Made a mistake.  What I told you that day was true:  I was excited about finishing the first paper and when I said it still needed a lot of work, well – the final dissertation was a long way from being ready for submission; I hadn’t even started writing it.  But you had no way of knowing anything about any of what it was all about.  When I left that morning, I was in a hurry, late in meeting Jim.  I closed the doc but forgot to close the password protected directory.  You were only trying to help me.  That’s all.  That’s not a sin or a crime.”

Swallowing, she replied tightly, “I hear you.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Blair insisted, reaching out to tease a hand free and hold it.  “I’m not sure any of you really understand – I told the truth during that press conference.  I was a fraud.  I had lied.”  When they all gaped at him in astonishment, Simon looking confused, and Jim outraged, he lifted a hand to forestall any challenge.  “Not about Jim, obviously, or what was in that paper; but about the whole thing at the university.  I don’t know if or when I would have ever finished my diss, but I led my committee to believe for years that it was in process, when it wasn’t.  Even gave them a draft first chapter to keep them believing that I was serious about it.  I lied to them for years.  I continued to work as an ABD fellow without ever letting on to anyone, that I was, basically, a fraud.  I’d had no intention for a very long time of ever pursuing an academic career, not if I could get what I wanted more.”  Swallowing, he lifted his gaze to Jim’s.  “When we first got started, I did intend to use the research for my doctorate.  But, it didn’t take long before I got caught up in being more interested in just helping you sort out your senses.   After you saved me from Lash, man, the research was ‘way on the back burner and it was mostly all about helping you.  And then,” he looked across the fire at Simon, “when we went to Peru, it all clicked home for me.  It wasn’t about the doctorate at all.  It was about friendship.  About doing everything I could to give Jim the best backup possible, for as long as I could.  I knew then I never wanted to stop doing what I was doing; that I loved doing so much.”  He shrugged.  “Only, I didn’t know how long it could go on, or if it would go on indefinitely.  So I obfuscated all over the place and just kept hoping things would work out.  Well, I guess they did.  My karma caught up with me and it was almost a relief to end it all.  I’m just so sorry that it hurt so many people.  Really sorry.  If I could go back, get a ‘do over’, I’d for sure do things differently.  I’d risk being more upfront about what I wanted, not so afraid of losing it all.  But … thanks to Simon and Jim, I got what I wanted most, have pretty much always wanted, right from the beginning.  I got to be Jim’s partner officially, for good.”

Squeezing his mother’s hand, he said firmly, “So, give up the guilt already!  You didn’t cost me anything that mattered to me.  Even if you had, Mom, you gotta forgive yourself.  All you’re guilty of is loving me.”

Tears spangled her eyes, and she leaned forward, wrapping him in a tight hug.  “I just want you to be happy.”

“Then you get what you want, ‘cause I am,” he affirmed, hugging her back.  She took a deep breath and let him go, the perennial tension between them since the disaster finally assuaged.

Looking across the fire at Steven, Blair said, “So, I guess that’s a pretty longwinded answer to your question.  I really am sorry that things were rough with the media for a while.” 

Steven nodded.  “Thank you,” he said candidly.  Shifting his gaze to Jim’s, he steeled himself and asked, a lost hurt resonating in his voice, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?  When we were kids?  Or after we finally started to get along again?”  Swallowing hard, he pushed to the deeper hurt.  “And why didn’t you get in touch when you came back to Cascade?  Weren’t nearly twenty years of shunning me, us, enough?”

Jim tensed, instinctively feeling defensive, old habits rearing, old refusals to explain himself or talk about any of it, crowding his throat.  But Blair pressed his arm, and stalled his first words, blocking them long enough for him to realize the old answers couldn’t, wouldn’t, work anymore.   He blinked, frowning slightly as his gaze sought Manuel’s and he recalled the strange feeling he’d had three days before on the steps of the temple: that they hadn’t just been talking about hearing the SUV approach, but something more.  Manuel nodded and lifted his brows, posing a mute question: do you hear them now, sentinel?

Rubbing his hand over his head, Jim sighed and grimaced, chagrined.  “When I was a kid, I didn’t tell anyone, except Dad.  Bud guessed, I think, or at least knew there was something different about me, but …” his voice died away.  “And then, well, I just kinda suppressed it all, I guess.  Pretended so long I didn’t have these senses that they finally disappeared and I believed my own lies.”  Scratching his cheek, he shrugged uncomfortably.  “I didn’t get in touch when I came back to town for a lot of reasons.  After what happened in Peru, I wasn’t inclined to talk to anyone, frankly.  Told myself I didn’t want or need anything from anybody.  And, well, it had been so long, I honestly didn’t think either you or Dad would care.  I was still angry about stuff; stupid, I guess.  It had all been a long time ago and didn’t matter anymore.  But I didn’t know how to let it go.”

William looked into the shadows, shaking his head.  “I should have called you,” he said wearily.  “I just … I just didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

“You were right,” Jim admitted.  “At the time, I didn’t.  But I’m not a kid anymore, Pop.  I understand a lot more than I did when I left home.  You don’t have to keep feeling badly.  Took two of us to lock horns.  Two of us to avoid doing anything about that.  When you got the chance, you cleared the decks and tried to give us another chance.”  Turning to Steven, he went on, “And so did you.  And, I guess, I did, too, to some extent.  But then the story broke and … and I didn’t take it well.  I wasn’t ready to be civil to anyone.  I just wanted to find a way to fix it.  To move on.  To forget it all.  Pretend it never happened.  And … and after Blair went public, I just felt so rotten about everything.  At that point, I just wanted to fix it with Sandburg.  I wasn’t really thinking about anything or anyone else.”

“So, uh,” Steven stumbled, hesitated, took a breath, “we okay now?  Do we get one of those ‘do overs’?”

“Yeah, Stevie, absolutely,” Jim said huskily.  “I’d like that.”  Looking toward his father, he emphasized, “I’d really like a chance to ‘do over’.”

William smiled gently.  “So would I.  But we can only ‘do now’.  Figure out how to be a family – maybe for the first time.”

“Works for me,” Steven interjected with touching eagerness.

“Me, too,” Jim affirmed, visibly moved. 

William looked at Blair.  “How about you, son?  You willing to give the in-laws a try?”

Startled, not having thought that Jim’s father would ever overtly acknowledge their relationship, not even really sure he knew anything about it, Blair blinked, and then smiled broadly.  “Oh, hey, man, I’m like so down with that!”  Jostling his mother’s shoulder with his own, he teased, “Whoa, Mom – get this!  I got me a Dad!”

“Well, you’ve certainly always wanted one,” she laughed ruefully, and shoved back playfully.  “Looks like you found a pretty good one.”

“And, did you notice?” he snickered.  “I got me a big brother, too.”

“Well, that’s good, sweetie,” she grinned, and then winked at Jim.  “But I’m way too young to be your mother.”

Everyone laughed, but Blair heard a note of discomfort in the circle and he gazed over at Banks, who was looking decidedly uncomfortable, as if he felt embarrassed, like he was intruding where he didn’t belong.  “There’s just one thing,” Sandburg said, smiling fondly, addressing his remarks to William and Steven, but continuing to gaze at Simon, “Jim and I, well, we haven’t been completely unencumbered with family in our daily lives these past few years; but the guy that’s part of our little nuclear group kinda defies categorization.  Patriarch?  Big brother?  Godfather – in a good way?  I don’t know what to call him.  Mostly, he seems to like it if we just call him, ‘sir’.  What I do know is that he’s been there for us, all the way, sometimes when I’m sure he’d rather have had a simpler life.  But he never gave up on us.  Never betrayed us.  Was always there when we needed him.  So, if you take us, well, you take ‘sir’, too.”

“Sir?” Simon snorted.  “I should be so lucky,” he groused, but his voice was husky and he compressed his lips tightly as he met Sandburg’s eyes – his own suspiciously bright in the firelight – and nodded gratefully, clearly moved.  Pushing himself to his feet, he rumbled, “Well, this has all been real nice, but I was ready for bed a while ago.  So I’ll bid you all g’night.”  Moving around the circle he ruffled Blair’s hair as he passed by, and Sandburg snickered.

“Night, sir,” he warbled.  And everyone chimed, “Night, sir!” laughing with giddy merriment, all glad to move past the unexpected emotionality of the evening, but all also very much more at peace than when the evening had begun.

Shaking his head, Simon sighed dramatically.  “Oh, I can see being part of this family is going to be a lot of fun,” he grumbled sarcastically as he headed into the dark corridor.

Manuel stood.  “Simon is right,” he said casually.  “It is late and tomorrow will be busy.”  Waving almost negligently toward Blair, he added with feigned sternness, “And you, niño, need to rest.”

When they’d all drifted away, Blair looked up at Jim, who’d mutely stood to shake out their bedrolls and blankets, his body turned away, his face in shadows.  “I should have told you all of it but … I come off sounding like such a wuss, you know?” Sandburg said, a plaintive note in his voice.  “Tailing around after you like a lost mutt, hoping to not be thrown back on the street.  And I didn’t think you’d be too impressed with me stringing the university a line, but I needed some kind of fallback for when … when the ride finally ended.  ‘Cause I really thought it would, eventually.  And I needed an income to pay my way.  I didn’t cheat them, Jim – I gave them good service.  Didn’t stint on any of my duties.  I was just, uh, not quite honest about my endgame goals.”

Jim half-turned his head to listen, but didn’t face him.  When his voice trailed off, Ellison shrugged a little, as if loosening up stiff shoulders.  “You’ve made a couple cracks to Manuel about how I didn’t trust you for a long time,” he reflected quietly.  “And, I guess that’s true, sort of.  In the beginning, I was careful.  I didn’t know who you were, if you were trustworthy.  And I tend to keep private things private.  I didn’t tell you about the visions, in Peru and during the whole Alex Barnes thing, for a long time because it all seemed so weird, so unbelievable – and more than a little nuts – but not because I didn’t trust you.  I didn’t tell you because I just didn’t want to talk about them, that’s all.”  Turning, his expression stark, he continued tightly, “But, you know what, Chief?  I pretty much always trusted you almost from the very beginning.  I trusted your instincts with the senses.  Trusted you’d give me the best backup you could.  Trusted that you’d never let me down or betray me.  That’s why I reacted so badly when the shit hit the fan.  I … I thought I’d been wrong about you.  All those years, I’d been wrong.  I mean, I never figured you’d stick around forever, but I never thought you’d shaft me, either.  And then, when I watched your press conference … shit.”  Shaking his head, he sighed.  “In all that time, all those years, it never occurred to me, not once, that you didn’t trust me.  Or that you’d want to give up everything else just to keep working with me.”

Saddened, Blair grimaced and shook his head.  “Guess I thought I’d given you enough clues,” he replied, looking away, his voice low, regretful.  “Like giving up the chance of a lifetime to go to Borneo with Eli, or telling you I had enough material to write ten dissertations but still kept hanging around anyway, and that I thought going back to the merry-go-round would be kinda boring.”  Sighing mightily, he concluded with a decidedly plaintive tone as if to wonder what more he could possibly have done to make his feelings clear.  “Or, like returning from like the Other Side, man – which is usually a one-way ticket if you know what I mean – just because you called me back.”  

“Some detective I turned out to be.”  Jim huffed a wry laugh to cover the chill he felt every time he recalled the fountain, and shrugged with no little amused chagrin.  “Most so-called frauds don’t hand me clues upfront and face to face, hoping to get caught.  But you’ve got a point.  You’re definitely the only dead guy who ever came back, just ‘cause I wanted – needed – you to stay with me.”  Moving forward into the circle of light and warmth created by the fire, he stopped close and cupped Blair’s face with tender hands.  “Manuel’s right, you know.  We waste too much time caught up in our assumptions about what the other guy is thinking or feeling.  Assumptions that are too-often based on worst-case scenarios.  Like my assumption that you’d eventually want to go, and your assumption that I didn’t want you to stay.  No more, okay?  No more assumptions of worst-case scenarios between us.  No more assumptions at all.  We check things out from here on in, deal?”

Blair nodded, seemed as if he was going to speak but couldn’t find the right words as his eyes, wide and luminous in the firelight, searched his partner’s.  Jim drew him up and kissed him deeply.  And then he led him to their bed.  They undressed each other, taking their time, kissing slowly with tender affirmation.

But when they lay curled together, Blair noticed little shivers had taken command of his lover’s body.  “Hey, man, what’s wrong?  You’re shaking here.”

Jim’s grip tightened around him reflexively, and he seemed to hesitate but then said hoarsely, “I was scared, Chief.  Scared I was really going to lose you this time.  Guess I’m just … just starting to accept that coming here really worked.  I don’t know why or how.  But … it was hard, babe.  So hard to see you like that.”

Closing his eyes, Blair gripped him with firm strength.  “I’m here.  I’m solid and I’m getting better every day.  You did everything right to keep me alive.”  They clung together, but the tremors didn’t ease.  “What do you need, Jim?” he murmured.  “What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know,” Ellison sighed.  “It’s like I have this need to just touch you, you know?  Drink you in.  Convince myself you’re really here.”

Smiling gently, Blair nodded against his chest.  “Then do what you need, man.  Only … I need to touch you, too.  Like I need to claim you as mine all over again.  Weird, huh?”

Shaking his head, pressing his eyes closed, Jim replied huskily, “No, not weird.  We came too close to losing it all again, kid, because we didn’t have a clue for ‘way too long.  Too close.”  Inhaling deeply, he drew Blair’s scent inside; let himself relax and focus only on the reality of holding Blair is his arms.  Languorously, he began to stroke his partner’s body, mapping Sandburg with the tips of his fingers, beginning at the top of his head, his ears and neck, his face and throat, even while opening his senses consciously to the feeling of Blair’s weight sprawled over his body, the warmth and solidness, the silken feeling of skin on skin.  But when Sandburg shifted, he chuffed a laugh.

“What?” Blair asked, lifting his head to peer into his eyes.

“I told you it would itch like hell when your hair started growing back in,” Jim replied, smiling a little.

A slight frown puckering his brow, Sandburg looked down to check his still denuded chest, and ran one hand over the skin.  “Can’t see it or feel it,” he sighed, shaking his head.  “Might not for days yet.”

“I’ll keep you posted on how it’s coming along,” Jim assured him, easing him over onto his back.  “Shh.  I need to concentrate here.”  Slowly, he caressed and licked, nuzzled and inhaled, lightly massaged to feel muscle and bone, listened to Blair breathe and moan softly with pleasure, and gradually the internal aching need inside subsided.

But it was the simultaneous touch of Blair’s hands, strong, capable, tender, loving, grounding him, stroking over his body – the sensations of touching and being touched, of tasting and being tasted, blending into a sensory unity of intimacy and belonging – that finally soothed away the tremors that rippled through him.  Ragged remnants of helpless uncertainty and bewildered, terrifying fear finally melted away, leaving him feeling whole and strong again.  Feeling Blair’s breath on his skin, being with him alone and safe in the darkness, somehow made him feel complete and secure. 

Taking their time, each profoundly moved and tender, they mapped one another completely, reclaiming beloved ground, soothing one another, finding their own peace and joy in their need for one another.  The fire was burning low, the torches in the wall brackets extinguished by the time they satisfied their craving for this tactile, human togetherness and lay entangled together.  “I love you, Chief,” Jim said softly, both exultation and gratitude in his voice.  “Never doubt that.”

“I love you, too, Jim,” Blair murmured.  Sighing blissfully on the edge of sleep, all deals notwithstanding, he mumbled, “And that’s the one thing you can always assume, man, and never be wrong.”

Blair woke sharply, rage curdling in his gut and a frisson of imminent danger rippling like a low current of electricity eddying over his skin.  Sitting up quickly, his gaze darted around the small chamber and, in the dim glow cast by the dying embers of their fire, he could barely make out Jim dressing with swift silence.  Manuel appeared in the entry way, a dark shadow against the blackness of the corridor.  When he stepped into the room, the firelight shimmered over features that held no trace of humor.  There was deep anger in his eyes, and the set of his shoulders, the stance of his body, gave an impression of barely-leashed power.  

“I hear them,” Jim murmured, his voice low and taut.  “Five or six of them, surrounding the temple.”

“Who?” Sandburg demanded softly as he scrambled to his feet and pulled on his jeans. 

“Trouble,” the shaman said soberly.  “They have come with the intent to kill.”

Ellison grabbed up the two rifles leaning against the corner, and handed one to Sandburg.  Waving at them to follow, he led the way soundlessly through the stygian gloom of the pitch dark interior stone corridor.  At one point, Jim held up his hand, his head tilting to listen.  “Two are climbing the outer steps,” he muttered.  “Manuel, go, wake the others.  Lead them to the roof – use the back staircase.  William and Steven are to watch over you and Naomi.  Simon is to hold the stairwell, on the landing below.  Blair and I will try to stop them, or at least hold them off until dawn and the others can see what’s happening.”

“An hour away, Sentinel,” the old man told him.  He tightly gripped Blair’s arm, and Sandburg felt a surge of calm energy course through him, leaving his mind clear and his body strong, though the rage burned – banked now, under control – in his belly.  “Attend to your sentinel.  Be a warrior, yes, but in his cause.  It is for him to protect and safeguard the rest – for you to protect and safeguard him.”  The strong fist released him and the shaman melted into the darkness.

Gripping his shoulder briefly, Ellison grunted, “This way.”

Blind in the darkness, Blair kept a light touch on Jim’s back as they jogged through the endless corridors, darting around corners, pausing to listen.  “They’re inside,” Jim told him, whispering into his ear.  “One is headed this way.  Others are shifting, moving back to the entrance.  It’s the only way in.”

His arm flattened Sandburg against the wall and they waited, scarcely breathing.  By the time Blair heard the scrape of muffled footsteps, the intruder was turning the corner, almost upon them.  Jim let him take a step past where they stood masked by the impenetrable shadows, and then the sentinel jammed the butt of his rifle against the man’s skull.  The would-be assassin would have dropped like a stone, his weapon clattering, but Blair reached out and caught him, lowering him silently to the floor.  With efficient speed, they pulled off his shirt, using it to bind his wrists behind his back, and then hastily moved him into a nearby room, out of the way.  Jim looped the extra rifle over his shoulder, shoved the man’s knife into his own belt and handed a revolver to Blair, who stuck it in his waistband, against his spine.

Laying a hand on Jim’s arm, Blair whispered softly, “Where are they?”

Photo Manip by Patt.

Listening intently for a moment, Ellison replied, “Two are waiting for the others by the top of the stone steps.  One is checking out the grotto near the entry.  Wait, another one is running up the steps, and one of the sentries is moving inside – heading down the corridors away from us.”

“And the last guy?” Sandburg probed.

“Not sure – if there is a sixth guy, he must be holding his position, staying very quiet.  Still outside somewhere.”

“Our people?”

“Manuel has them up and moving.  They’re okay for now.”

“How do you want to play this?”

“Take them one at a time, if we can,” Jim muttered tightly.  “Stay close.”

They moved out swiftly, Ellison using his memory of their ramblings the last few days to cut a diagonal route through the maze of corridors to come up behind the intruder in the Eye of God grotto, where he’d had his terrible visions.  Approaching with the stealth of a stalking cat, he snaked an arm around the man’s throat in a tight choke hold, squeezing until the guy slumped.  Jim whipped off his own shirt to bind their second captive’s hands.  And then they were off again, cutting around several corners but, this time, the surprise wasn’t perfect and the hostile managed to get off a racketing barrage that ricocheted with explosive sound, leaving Jim’s ears ringing, before the man was choked unconscious.

“So much for the element of surprise,” Blair muttered. 

Blinking, Ellison massaged his face just in front of his ears, and swallowed, trying to clear his hearing.  “Damn,” he cursed. 

“It’s okay, just relax,” Sandburg murmured encouragingly, his voice low, soothing as he lightly gripped Jim’s arm.  “Bring the dial down.  It’s just an overload; give it time to clear.” 

Tense, Jim closed his eyes and nodded, grateful at least to mute the annoying residual buzzing in his head.

“You can still see better than they can in this darkness, and we have a general idea of where at least two of them were,” Sandburg encouraged.

“Yeah,” Jim agreed grimly.  “This way.”

On the open topmost level of the ruin, the darkness was not so absolute.  Stars still lit the sky, casting silver illumination over the jungle below and creating planes of shadow and faint light over the tumbled stones scattered around them from the broken roof, walls and pillars.  Pressed into the corner of a crumbled watchtower, Naomi flinched at the sharp, violent burst of explosive gunfire somewhere deep in the temple beneath their feet, and covered her mouth with her hands, trembling.  Squatting nearby below the lip of the uneven remains of a wall around the perimeter, William and Steven stiffened, tense and afraid of what the burst of bullets meant.

“Be calm,” Manuel counseled quietly, moving between them, keeping low with a graceful agility that belied his age.  “Your sentinel and his guide and their brother, Simon, are equal to the challenge.”  Gently, he touched each of them so lightly they scarcely perceived the brush of his fingertips, but muscles relaxed and their rasping breathing evened out.

“But, Blair is down there,” she whispered brokenly behind them, rubbing her arms as she shivered with anxiety. 

“Your son is strong, and is attending his sentinel,” the shaman replied over his shoulder sternly.  “Where else would he be?”

She opened her mouth to argue, but her old friend Mano shook his head and lifted a hand for silence.  “Your fear pollutes and weakens the forces of energy around them.  It is their responsibility to safeguard and protect.  Yours to have courage and confidence in their abilities to serve their tribe well.”

Swallowing hard, she stared at him, wild-eyed.  But she blinked and took a deep, centering breath, and then nodded with resolute determination. 

Turning away from her, Manuel again closed his eyes, going very still, as if listening.  And then he shifted swiftly across the broken roof, skirting around the edges of gaping holes, and disappearing into the dark maw of the steep and winding stone stairwell.

Coming up behind Simon who was crouched by the corner of the landing, just inside the turn where the steps sloped away into utter darkness, he whispered quietly, “One of them has magic and he is using it to cloak his movements.  He has slipped past our guardians and is heading this way.”  Resting a hand on Banks’ shoulder, he murmured, “Trust your instincts.  You will know when he approaches and be ready for him.”

“Magic?” Simon groaned low in his throat, exasperated with the suggestion of some kinda voodoo or whatever.  Shaking his head, wanting to contest that such nonsense could be possible, he bit his lip.  “Trust my instincts, the man says,” he grumbled.  Sighing, he glanced over his shoulder and nodded briefly.  “Thanks for the heads-up.”  His attention returning to the stairwell, his eyes narrowed and his expression darkened with purpose. 

Rounding a corner, Jim cursed when he saw the wash of the bright beam of a flashlight sweep across the floor at the far end where the corridor curved.  Whirling around, he pressed Blair quickly into a half-collapsed chamber, the wall and ceiling broken and large stones littering the floor inside.  Motioning Sandburg to take cover behind one of the massive blocks just inside the entry, he lightly scrambled up on the thick half-wall and crouched low.  Light bloomed in the corridor, and even Blair could hear the hollow echo of footsteps approaching cautiously.  Waiting until the stalker was passing directly beside him, Jim launched himself forward, driving the man across the hallway and against the far wall.  The flashlight flew and bounced, light spinning and streaking the shadows.  The enemy was a big man, solid with muscle, and he shoved off the stone, grappling with Ellison, landing solid body blows.  Panting, Jim broke his hold and lurched back to give himself space.  But the other man followed swiftly, and they slammed fists into one another, blocking, grazing, connecting brutally.  Once again Jim whirled away, as if retreating, but only a step, two, and whipped around, jumping into a flying kick that drove his assailant back, and then he whirled again, kicking high and connecting with the other’s head, dropping him to the ground.  He stood panting, brightly illuminated by the beam of the flashlight that momentarily blinded him to the approach of another killer.  His hearing still dialed down, he didn’t hear the click of a weapon being engaged. 

“Drop it,” Sandburg growled with deadly menace, pressing the muzzle of his recently acquired revolver hard into the taller man’s skull, just behind his ear.  “NOW!”

In moments, they had the two marauders restrained. 

“One to go,” Ellison grated with a last tight pull of sturdy cotton, ensuring a secure knot.  “Maybe.”

“Where?”

Jim dialed up his hearing, tilted his head, listened intently.  But he squinted in frustration, scowling as he shook his head.  “Don’t know.  Still can’t get a fix on him.  Maybe I only thought there were six of them.”

The shattering sounds of bullets ripping the night exploded from high in the back of the ruin.

Wordlessly, the two guardians burst into a run, racing through the twisting corridors, skidding around corners and dodging or leaping over broken blocks of stone.  The faintest gray light of dawn now filtered through cracks in the exterior wall and jagged breaks in the ceilings of some of the most dilapidated chambers they plunged past.  Breath rasping in their lungs, more from anxiety than exertion, they finally tore into the last passage leading to the winding staircase.  Very faintly, in the gray glow drifting down the stairwell, they could see a large body crumpled on the stone-flagged floor.  Sliding to a stop, they could hear nothing but silence from above. 

“Not Simon,” Jim gasped, able to see more clearly than his partner.  They approached slowly, still cautious, in case yet another invader had evaded detection.  Edging along the wall, close to the opening onto the stairwell, weapons held ready, Ellison yelled, “Simon?”

“All clear,” Banks’ reassuring bellow responded.  Relieved, they climbed swiftly, and Simon stood to meet them.  Rifle held at rest in his fists, he demanded crisply, “Any more of them?”

“The one at the bottom is the last of them, I think,” Jim replied tautly, still on alert.  “He slipped by us somehow.”

“Don’t feel bad.  Manuel told me the guy was cloaked by magic or whatever, so he couldn’t be detected,” Banks said, wryly sardonic.  Slipping his weapon over his shoulder, he grinned smugly and pointed out with rich complacency, “See, I told you you’d need my help.”

Ellison snorted with amusement, shaking his head as he and Sandburg followed his Captain up onto the roof.  The others rushed toward them, relieved to see that they were safe.  Naomi gave a wary look to the weapon still clutched in her son’s hand but sucked it up, greeting him with a wide smile and a fierce hug. 

“We heard shots,” Steven told them, curious as to what had happened.

“How many of them were there?” William asked, searching his son’s face.

“Six, altogether.  One dead, and five trussed for transport,” Jim told them calmly.  Moving to the edge of the roof, Blair swiftly joining him and placing a light hand on his back, Ellison gave the area a sensory scan.

“Six!” Naomi exclaimed, gaping; Steven and William appeared equally astonished.  “But … we only heard a few shots.”

“It’s what they do,” Banks told them quietly, affection and admiration in his voice.  “In the pitch-dark corridors down there, Jim has a significant advantage with his phenomenal hearing and sight, so he and Blair can sneak up or ambush like ghosts in the night.  Hell, he can smell them through the walls.  Most of those guys won’t know what hit them.”  Jerking his head toward the two men standing a few feet away, he went on, “Jim’s checking out the area, making sure no more hostiles are out there.  See what Blair’s doing – touching his partner?  It’s one of the ways that Blair helps Jim focus his senses and use them to the best of his ability.  Add in their detective skills, Jim’s military training, and Blair’s anthropological and profiling knowledge, and they’re an unbeatable team.  At least, they have been for years now.”

William, Naomi and Steven gazed thoughtfully at their two loved ones, seeing them as they’d never really seen them before, strong and assured, confident and complete in themselves, for the first time beginning to truly understand the uncanny bond between them.

“They are brave men, powerful guardians,” Manuel added solemnly.  Looking at Simon, he winked.  “Your tribe is very lucky.”

“Yeah,” Banks agreed, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile as he pulled a fresh cigar from his shirt pocket and stuck it in his mouth, “I know.”

During his sensory sweep, Ellison spotted a glint of color through the foliage.  Shortly thereafter, he and his brother, who’d volunteered to go out searching with him, found the attackers’ transports, while the others rounded up the downed men. 

Returning to the temple compound with Steven, Jim glanced flatly at the now conscious, restrained men whom Simon, Blair and William had escorted outside.  The body of the dead man was lying on the gurney nearby, covered by a thin blanket.  Banks had searched the would-be murderers, finding keys to their vehicles and identification in their wallets, along with wads of excessive amounts of money. 

“They say who sent them?” Ellison asked, his tone cold and hard.

“No, seems the cat’s got their tongue,” Simon drawled.  But, waving the stack of pesos, he added, “Looks like they’re just hired help.”

Jim nodded.  “Arguillo’s still in prison, but there’s nothing to say he’s not still pulling strings.”  Dismissing them, Ellison reported, “We found their vehicles about a quarter mile away in a small clearing.”

“Well, I suppose some of us will have to take them into town,” Simon sighed.

“We will all leave, except the sentinel and his guide,” Manuel called, ambling down the long flight of steps, Naomi trailing after him.  “They have yet to make their decisions.  For that, they need to be alone.”

“For how long?” Simon asked, looking from Manuel to Ellison and Sandburg. 

The shaman answered with blithe unconcern before they could respond, “Not too long, I think.  Two days, perhaps three.  Come,” he encouraged warmly, giving them a conspiratorial smile as he offered, “I will bring you all to my favorite taverna.  We will drink, eat well, tell stories, sing, maybe dance a little.  And you can enjoy the beautiful beach at Sierra Verde.  The time will pass quickly enough.”

Banks looked to Jim and the detective shrugged.  “Sounds about right, I guess.  If you leave one of the jeeps, we’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

Naomi looked as though she might protest the sudden leave-taking, but William looped an arm over her shoulder, drawing her back up the steps, Steven following.  “Well, then, we’d best go pack up the gear.  It’ll take a few trips to get everything and,” he glanced back over his shoulder at their prisoners, “everyone loaded and ready to go.”

“I’ll stand watch over these turkeys, if you’ll pack up my gear,” Simon offered genially.  Jim agreed, and he, Sandburg and the shaman climbed back up toward the temple.

“Manuel,” Blair asked, hesitating midway, chewing his lip, “when I woke up earlier, I felt a powerful rage, and I felt something similar when we were tracking a really vicious serial killer in Cascade.  I’ve never felt anything like it before.”  Pausing on the steps, he probed, “Is it somehow related to shamanism?”

“Sí, it is,” the shaman answered, while Jim listened with interest, not having heard about the rage before.  “It is a deep anger toward those who threaten the innocent; a compulsion to bring them to account, to stop them before they can do further harm.”

“But how did I sense these guys were out here?  How could I feel rage against people I didn’t even know were threatening us?” Sandburg demanded, feeling uncomfortable and uncertain.

“Sometimes, our spirits perceive what our bodies or minds cannot yet comprehend or recognize,” Manuel told him with a casual shrug.

“But you knew they were out there,” Blair pointed out.  “You’d known long enough to already come to our chamber before I’d even woken up and Jim was only just getting dressed.  You had to know even before he did that there was a specific threat very close.  How could you know that?”

“I am a shaman,” Manuel replied complacently, as if the answer were obvious.  “I know how to use my powers.”  With that, he again began to climb the steps. 

Photo Manip by Akablonded.

When Blair gaped after him, Jim chuckled softly at his look of bemusement.  “He’s got you there, Chief.  Guess if you want to know the secrets, you have to join the club.” 

“Apparently,” Sandburg muttered, aggrieved.  When Manuel paused at the top of the steps, obviously waiting for them, they hurried to join him.

He waved them inside, giving them their instructions as they all passed through the portal and paused in the entry way, “You will talk when we are gone, and then you will cleanse yourselves, drink the tea and then you will receive the wisdom and guidance of the Ancestors.  Understand this very clearly, during your discussion, your conversation, you will determine your future roles together and agree.  There must be no darkness between you, no conflict, when you go into the Hall of the Ancestors, or the darkness will pollute your future.  This means that you,” he turned to Blair, “must make your choice to accept or defer your shaman calling, and you both must be in accord on this decision, before you enter the Hall, for your decision will determine the guidance the two of you will be given by those who have gone before.”  Manuel paused, looking deeply into Sandburg’s wide, haunted eyes, sharing his understanding of all that the younger man feared and hoped.  His voice was gentle as he counseled, “It will be alright, niño.  There is no right or wrong choice, only one that is right for you and your sentinel.  But he must know what is in your mind and your heart, and you must listen to his counsel in making your decision.  You cannot reject what you are outright, as it is part of your soul and has always been, always will be.  But if you are yet not ready, return to me in the village, and I will help mute your powers until they can again be called forth.  If you accept what you are, then I and other shamans can help you to understand your talents and to harness them to your will.”  Turning to Jim, he went on, “You, too, need guidance on your shaman inheritance, to understand your visions, and to know how to call upon the spirit guides with confidence, when you have need of them.”

Jim nodded soberly, but his body was rigid with tension and his gaze was distant, locked on the pools in the shadows of the grotto of the Eye of God.  Remembering its horrors and all that went with that time less than a year ago, he winced, dropped his gaze and took a deep breath.  He felt Manuel grip his arm firmly, heard him say calmly, “The last time, your mind and soul were raped, Sentinel.  You did not enter of your free will.  The ceremony was false, wrongly done.  The two pools are not meant for two sentinels, but for a sentinel and shaman pairing – to enable your souls to touch, to merge and to share knowledge with the greatness of the Universe.  Someday, when the both of you are ready, you will return here and experience the wonders, the mysteries, the truths of time and boundless love – one day, Sentinel, this place will hold no horrors for you.  No regrets or remorse, no guilt or terror.  Until that time comes, let the memories rest.”

A feeling of serenity filled Ellison at the shaman’s touch, a sense of abiding in peace with the past.  A burden he’d grown so used to carrying he scarcely noticed it any longer, lightened, and he could breathe more easily.  Lifting his gaze to the old shaman’s eyes, seeing compassion and boundless understanding in their depths, he nodded gratefully, and Manuel smiled before releasing his grip and moving away.  He glanced at Blair, noting the younger man’s thoughtful expression as he gazed at the twin pools.  “Listen,” the shaman called, his voice low and commanding, reclaiming their full attention, “it is time for you to find the path you will share and walk together.  You will not return from this place until your decisions and choices have been made, and you have received the wisdom of the Ancestors.  When you return to the world, it will be as a fully bonded pairing in keeping with tradition and ritual.”

When they nodded soberly, he waved them on.  “Go, wish your family well on their journey and assure them of your safety here, so that they will not worry about you.  When we are gone, begin.”

First the group ate, for their journey that day would be long and arduous.  Then they sorted supplies and gear, deciding what to take and what to leave.  Jim and Blair worked up a sweat helping to load one of the jeeps with the expended oxygen tanks and empty intravenous bottles, the refuse of their meals, and the camping gear and supplies they wouldn’t need in the days ahead.  The body on the gurney and the five prisoners were settled in the large SUV, with Steven at the wheel and Simon riding shotgun to guard the felons, while Naomi and Manuel left with William in the jeep. 

Watching them pull out, a memory niggled at Ellison and he turned to Sandburg as they walked back through the gate toward the long flight of steps.  “By the way, Chief,” he said, frowning in thought, “I’ve been meaning to ask you – when we were hunting those guys in the dark?  Your touch was different.  More solid?  No, that’s not right.  Something.  Made my senses so sharp, so focused, better than they’ve ever been.  Why was that?”

Startled from his preoccupation on their imminent discussion, Blair stopped to look up at Jim.  “Really?  Different?” Sandburg echoed, suddenly lost in thought as he recalled how the pre-dawn moments had played out.  Biting his lip, he muttered, “Must’ve been the rage, or at least something Manuel did to focus it.  I … I felt a kind of coalescing of power or energy or something.”  Focusing again on Jim, he shook his head.  “I don’t know how to make it happen again.”

“Well, we can always ask him when we get back to town,” Jim replied casually, starting up the steps.  “C’mon.  Let’s get a cup of coffee and start hashing our ideas about everything that’s happened here, and before we came, and what we’re going to do about it.  I’m still hungry, too.  Let’s see what’s left in the larder.”

“He’ll probably just tell me it’s a shaman thing,” Blair grumbled, slowly following him up the cracked stone flight to the entry. 

“He said he’d give you some lessons,” Jim recalled, glancing over his shoulder.

Grimacing, Sandburg muttered, “Only if I decide to be a shaman, and I don’t think –”

Holding up a hand, but not breaking his easy stride, Ellison cut in, “Coffee first, remember?  And then discussion.  And let’s not jump too fast, here.  We’ve got a lot to talk about before we make any decisions.”

“Really?” Blair asked, startled, and Jim wasn’t sure what to make of his tone – hopeful but mixed with something else.  Trepidation, maybe?  “What’s there to talk about?  I mean, if it’s not broke, don’t fix it, right?  Why mess with a winning hand, right?”  When his partner didn’t answer, just shook his head and kept climbing, he called, “Jim?  You really think we need to talk?”

“Coffee, Sandburg,” Ellison replied firmly, though his tone was amused.  “And food.”

“Right.  Coffee,” Sandburg grunted.  Sighing, he clamped down on his questions.  Shivering at the coolness after the heat outside as he followed Jim back into the temple, he frowned in thought all the way along the dim corridor to their home away from home.

Jim added more wood to the embers to get the fire going again, and started the coffee percolating, and then wordlessly, each pondering their own thoughts, they shared fruit that Naomi had gathered from the jungle.  Pouring two mugs and handing one to Blair, Jim suggested, “Let’s go sit in the sun and thrash this stuff out.”

“Thrash?  First there’re some things to discuss and now we’ve got to thrash stuff out?” Blair responded, an edge to his voice, sounding distinctly anxious and abrupt.  “Fine.  It’s too dark and cold in here anyway.  I’m starting to feel like a mole.”

Quirking a brow at the irritated tone, Jim studied his partner, wondering at the avoidance – it wasn’t like Blair to resist talking about, well, about damned near anything.  Eyes narrowing, he also found it worrying that his partner was so apparently dead set against the idea of being a shaman – the old Sandburg would have been fascinated, maybe a bit in awe and uncertain, but willing, even eager, to learn, to grow – hell, to explore the ‘mysteries’.   Frowning at the uncomfortable realization that things might still be badly off-kilter with his partner, his apparent return to health notwithstanding, Ellison felt a chill of apprehension and his expression flattened, all trace of his earlier, bantering humor gone.  There wasn’t anything at all amusing about the risks all this weird stuff held for Sandburg’s life.  Stiffening, he stated categorically, “Yes, sure, fine, we’ve gotten a lot right – no question.  Good for us.  That’s great.  But you came pretty damned close to dying, Sandburg, because we’ve obviously screwed some things up pretty badly.  So, yes, you bet your ass we’re going to discuss what we’ve been missing, and yes, we’re going to thrash it out, until I make damned sure you’re not going to collapse on me again.  We clear on that?”

Abashed, Blair blinked and looked away.  The resistant tension in his body loosened and he sagged, a posture that Jim found looked uncomfortably close to defeated.  Sighing, Blair raked his hair back and nodded.  His tone subdued, with a definite tone of despair, he agreed, “Yeah.  We’re clear.  Lead on, MacDuff.  Let’s catch some rays.  I’m freezing in here.”

Ellison held his gaze for a moment longer, worry darkening his eyes.  Wordlessly, Blair looked away and, when Jim didn’t move, brushed past him.  Taking a breath, forcing himself to clamp down on his urge to shake Blair and just plain insist on him coming clean about whatever was only too obviously troubling him, Jim followed him outside to sit on the steps beside him. 

Jumping in first as soon as they were settled, looking everywhere but at the man next to him, Blair blurted, “Look, I know what you’re going to say, Jim.  You’re right.  There could possibly be some value to this shaman thing – like sensing danger or … or the healing.  That’s … that’s something that might be really important someday.  And, yeah, the stuff Manuel showed us in the chambers over the last few days seem to indicate we’re not yet engaged in the whole deal of this sentinel and, um, shaman thing.  We don’t access spirit guides at the drop of a hat, that’s for sure.  But we’ve done pretty well without bringing in the spirits – and I’m not sure how that would work in a modern context of crime prevention anyway.  And the visions and stuff, hearing voices that aren’t there – that could be really disruptive to us just doing our jobs, you know, as well as … well potentially freak out everyone we know.  Later, maybe, it might make some sense, but right now?”  He shrugged and shook his head.  “Basically, I think we are doing pretty good.  Well, you’re doing good.  I still need to get a grip on some stuff.  This profiler thing isn’t working and –”

“It’s working fine,” Ellison cut in flatly, uncomfortably aware that Sandburg seemed to be avoiding direct eye contact.  “We caught two serial killers in less than a week.  I’d say that’s better than fine.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Sandburg snapped sarcastically, his agitation growing.  “We did so fine that you nearly got your throat cut and I ended up a wreck.  And it’s just blind good luck, man, that you didn’t end up with some godawful disease.  Uh huh.  Absolutely.  Much definitely better than fucking fine.”  Pausing, he shook his head.  “Jim, it was a disaster.  I should never have taken that course.  I only made things worse.  I forgot, I guess – I thought it would be interesting, that … that we’d be teamed and we wouldn’t always get split up, and that maybe I could make more of a contribution – but I forgot what my job is.”

Photo Manip by Patt.

“You mean being a cop?” Jim probed with deliberate obtuseness, gnawing on his inner lip, watching, listening closely.

“Yeah, well, I guess, but only so I can do my real job – be your guide.”

Leaning forward, clasping his hands together between his knees, Jim looked out over the jungle.  “Simon said you told him that you’re screwing up because, no matter how hard you try, you can’t be like me,” he reflected, his tone carefully neutral.

“He told you that?” Blair exclaimed, stunned into looking at him directly.  When Ellison just nodded, he sighed.  “Well, yeah, it’s true, isn’t it?”  Shifting away, lifting his gaze to the clear sky, he shook his head.  “I don’t know what to do anymore,” he grated.  “I have to find a way to make this work.  I can’t keep leaving you at risk.”

Hearing the notes of frustration and, more worrisome, the continuing despair in Sandburg’s voice, Jim looked at him, pondering soberly.  His gaze dropped away and he leaned back against the step behind him, crossed his arms and stared down the long flight of cracked and broken steps as he tried to figure out what was going on with his partner.  Random thoughts and memories began to coalesce in his mind, phrases, visions.  Incacha’s words:  You heard but you did not listen.  It is for you to show him his path.  Show him the way, Sentinel.  Show him the way.

And the question in Manuel’s eyes the night before around the campfire, the one he thought was only about his family:  Do you hear them now? 

But Blair was his family, too.  The closest family he had.  What wasn’t he hearing?  What was he missing?

As a child, you were fascinated by shamanism.  You used to follow me around, mimicking what I did, trying to learn how to be a shaman.  Has that changed?  Do you no longer wish to learn?  To serve?”

Frowning at the memory of Manuel’s words, he studied Sandburg, who was looking into the distance as if seeking the answers to the mysteries of life.

Look into his eyes.  Incacha’s eyes.  Manuel’s eyes.  Blair had the same things in his eyes.

Blair knew all about shamanism. 

Had been fascinated by it. 

Had once, as a child, imagined, even aspired to be a shaman. 

But he was acting now like he didn’t want it, even as if he didn’t know much about it. 

It didn’t make sense.  Didn’t add up. 

And then it hit him. 

Sandburg was an anthropologist, for Christ’s sake. 

How could he have missed all the signs, given everything that had been happening over the past few months? 

Shit, he had to have known even when Incacha grabbed his arm and passed on the way of the shaman, that it had some deep significance!  But – it was as if that had never happened.  Blair had gone on being his usual bouncy, busy self, doing his job at Rainier, backing Jim up.  He’d been fine.  Hadn’t he?  Maybe he had missed the significance.  Hadn’t believed such a transfer was possible.  Maybe.  But somewhere along the line, he had changed, fundamentally changed.  The bounce disappeared, the consistent cheerfulness feded.  His eyes had lost their sparkle.

When had the light gone out of Sandburg’s eyes?  When had he stopped being enthusiastic?  Over the diss?  No.  Before that.  Even the encounter with Molly, the ghost, hadn’t brought it back.  Oh, sure, the kid had been fascinated, tenacious, but there’d been an anger in him, tangible frustration with Jim’s refusal to come clean with the others about seeing her.  So, before then.  Some part of Blair had dimmed, been locked down even before Molly, so it wasn’t just the diss, or becoming a cop.  He’d just been going through the motions for a long time, but with no real enthusiasm.  Doing his best, sure, but without any sense of wonder or joy.

When he remembered the moment, the last time he’d seen that spark of wonder in Blair’s eyes, suspicion twisted in his gut and he felt as if he’d just been punched.  “The water’s warm,” he muttered softly, feeling sick.

“Huh?” Blair glanced at him with a frown of impatience, not catching the low words.

Swallowing, Jim repeated tensely, “Come on in.  The water’s warm.”  Rounding on his partner, he growled, “But the water was cold, Chief.  In the fountain.  The water was cold.”  Blair’s eyes widened, stunned, and his lips parted in shock; he twisted away, shaking his head, as if he didn’t know what to say.

“Dammit,” Ellison cursed.  “You knew then, didn’t you?  About this shaman stuff?  About what we were supposed to do, to become?  What?  You see something over on the ‘Other Side’, Chief?  You get a glimpse of the Hall of Ancestors and the warm water in that pool?  Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Blair’s head bowed; he crossed his arms tightly and his shoulders hunched protectively, as if he were hurting inside.  Taking a shuddering breath, he said very low, “You said you weren’t ready to take that trip with me, man.  And you meant it.  You didn’t want to talk about it, or hear about it.”  Pausing, he shook his head.  “And then … then you followed her to Mexico, affiliated with her.  Everything got screwed up.  It was so … so intense and confusing for you and for me.  There was no way to talk about – you didn’t want to talk about what happened – everything that had happened.  It was too much.”  Swallowing, he sighed.  “So I turned it all off; or thought I had.  Thought if I didn’t act on it, didn’t follow through, you know, to learn, that … that nothing would change.  I … I told myself that someday, someday, you’d be ready, and until then we could just carry on, you know?  If I just did my job, backed you up like I’m supposed to, it would be okay.”

Jim gaped at him.  “You have got to be kidding me!  You buried all this, hid it from me?  It’s going on ten months, here, Chief,” he grated, furious, surging to his feet.  “God, when I said you didn’t trust me, I didn’t know the half of it, did I?  All that crap about honesty between us for months now and you were hiding this?”

Stung into anger, Sandburg jumped up and whirled to face him.  “Give me a break!” he exclaimed, the dam holding back so many months of struggle and despair, of emotion and uncertainty, of trying and trying and failing, of guilt and regret exploding.  “You won’t even admit to, let alone talk about, your own visions!  You hate this mystical shit!” he shouted.  “You think I don’t know that?  Man, after Incacha passed on the way of the shaman and I said something about maybe being the shaman of the great city, you … you blanked on me.  Looked away.  Didn’t say a word in response.  Haven’t mentioned it since!  And, what? After the fountain and I woke knowing something huge had just happened, something that wasn’t just about me but about you, too, after what you’d said just before she killed me – that you didn’t trust me, didn’t ever want to work with me again, I’m supposed to suddenly blurt out I’m a shaman, that I’ve been called, and the mysteries, the visions and the weirdness are now a fundamental part of your life, too, so get used to it, suck it up – yeah, right.  You’d’ve just kicked me out on my ass, man – but, wait, you already had!  When I woke up in the hospital, I didn’t even know if we even still had a partnership!  When I was too stunned by it all and yammered on about the mysteries, you looked away and said you did not want to take that trip with me.  And then you left town!  Hard to tell you much when you’re not even in the same country, man.” 

Jim’s jaw clenched and he looked away, still fuming with anger but knowing it was true, all true – he hadn’t wanted to talk about any of it.  Hadn’t left any room to talk about it.

Bitterly, Blair shook his head.  “Jim – you weren’t ever interested in my life, my work, except in so far as it impinged on your world and your needs.  How the hell many times did you give me flak about being late, or working on papers when we were on stakeout, or having to drive me back to some place because I’d forgotten my notes?  That didn’t exactly encourage me toward telling you that maybe you’re supposed to give me equal time, or breaking it to you that it’s not just about me being your guide, backing you up on your job.  If I was a shaman, I would need your full support man – need you to back me up, not just … just protect me and keep me out of the line of fire as much as you can but … but take time to understand and accept it all, to help me, be with me when I’m doing my thing.  Shit, man.  When the diss broke, you were ready to ditch it all, ditch me, again.  You believed I’d betrayed you, and even when you knew I hadn’t, you still wanted me gone.”  Blair’s voice caught and broke.  “And I couldn’t … couldn’t live without you, man.”

Ellison took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes.  God, this was hard to hear.  It seemed like it was a whole other lifetime, a whole other person that Sandburg was talking about.  That man Sandburg was describing wasn’t the man he was now.  He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to pushing Blair out of his life, how many times he’d nearly lost ….

“After the press conference, you … I knew you felt bad,” Sandburg went on, his voice low, aching.  “But in like, ten seconds, we were back on duty, going after the bad guys.  Do you know how happy you looked to be able to offer me that badge?  Because that’s all you really wanted, Jim.  You wanted me there, full time, backing you up.  Was that the moment to say, ‘Hey, big guy, guess what, I’m a shaman and if you think the weirdness and the competition for my time is over, think again.  Because now, I not only have my own thing to do, but you’re going to have to help me, support me, give me time, when I do it’?”

Bowing his head, crossing his arms, Jim remembered how it had seemed the perfect solution and he had been happy, thinking that Sandburg wouldn’t go.  Would be his partner for good.  But he hadn’t known, had no way of knowing about all the rest of this.  Had he just been blind?  So caught up in his own needs and wants?  But he’d known that that’s what Blair wanted, too.  It wasn’t all about him, was it?  Even then?  And certainly not now.

Tears blurred Blair’s eyes.  “When, Jim?  When was I supposed to tell you?  When you said you loved me and it scared the shit out of me because if I gave you everything, I wouldn’t have anything left the next time it got too much for you?  Hearing about the shaman stuff might really have done it, you know; might finally have been just a little too weird to take.  Or how about when I realized that I was losing my grip and started to have olfactory visions, started to perceive too much of the world around me?  Man, you were already scared that I was cracking up and, at that point, you know what?  I thought I was cracking up, too.  Losing it.  Going nuts, man.  Or when you were ready to give up your badge and everything that you are – what you have to be – because that’s your calling?  How could I do that to you?  Or when it was hard for you to let me go for a month to take the profiler training – something I thought I needed to do, so that I could get some outlet for this thing inside of me, some balance, some way of making it work within your world?  Was that when I was supposed to tell you that … ah, shit.”  He scraped his hands over his face, dashed the tears from his eyes and turned away, panting, struggling to calm down.  To get a grip.  “Or just a little while ago, when Manuel made it pretty clear that I had to … had to find a way to confess all this to you, when I knew you’d just see it as another kind of betrayal,” he murmured hoarsely.  “Was that the time, when you were remembering what that bitch had done to you, to us?  Was that the moment to say that what we’ve got, everything that’s so … so amazing and wonderful, maybe isn’t enough for me?  Or half an hour ago, when you didn’t want to talk, at least not until you had some coffee?”

Silence hung between them, thick and heavy, as they both struggled to contain their emotions.  Finally, Jim scrubbed his face.  “Okay,” he rasped.  “So you had your reasons, pretty good ones.  But I stopped being the guy who wouldn’t listen to you, who didn’t seem interested, months ago.  Somewhere along the line, Chief, especially when you got so sick … I just … how could you let it go on?  If you knew this could kill you, how could you risk that?  Do that to yourself?  To me?  To us?”

“I didn’t know I was sick,” Blair sighed.  Shrugging, subdued, he explained, “I thought, I really thought I had turned it off, or that it wouldn’t amount to anything if I didn’t pursue it.  I even stopped thinking about it for months.  When I first started having the nightmares, seeing dots and stuff, I didn’t put it together.  I thought it was just stress for a long time.  But I guess my subconscious was trying to get my attention.  The dreams about digs and research?  I think I was trying to remind myself of when I studied shamanism – when I’d first seen those signs that commonly herald a mystical or visionary experience.  But I’d locked it all away, man.  Locked it down tight.”

“Maybe so,” Jim murmured, watching him, struggling to understand.  “Somebody once told me that trauma can lead to repression.  Getting murdered, having a mind-blowing experience, losing your whole career, learning to kill – sounds like a lot of trauma to me.”

Huffing a laugh, Blair nodded.  “Maybe, I guess.  I don’t know.  But I didn’t finally clue in until after I’d healed you, in the woods.  And I felt like I didn’t know who I was anymore.  But I thought I could handle it, that I had to handle it.  That there was no choice but to handle it.  I thought profiling might give it an outlet and … and you’ve been so great about that, so supportive … I thought, maybe, I could tell you and you might be okay with it.  That when we got a moment to breathe, when the cases were over, that we could talk it out, decide what to do.  But then the shit hit the fan.  You got hurt – could have been infected with some deadly disease.  And I’d just had all those tests, right?  Man, I really did think that maybe it was all in my head and that maybe I did have a tumor or something.  But we’d gotten the results and I knew I wasn’t dying or anything, only then when I thought you might die, if you’d gotten infected, I wished I was dying, too.  You wouldn’t’ve even been in that damned alley if I hadn’t become a profiler, if you hadn’t been worried about me.  It was my fault, man, that you’d gotten hurt.  It killed me to know that, you know?  And we had to stop Monroe.  That wasn’t anything we could defer until I got my act together.  I knew I was getting tired, that I was going to have to face it soon.  That I couldn’t repress it all on my own anymore.  But I didn’t know how bad things had gotten and I didn’t want to lay it all on you when we were scared that you might be sick.  I swear I didn’t know it was killing me.  I thought I was still doing okay – until I collapsed.  And in the hospital after that?  When I heard I was dying?”  He shook his head, his throat tightened and his voice was thin with strain when he said, “I knew then that I’d blown it big time.  Screwed everything up and it was my own damned fault.  And it was too late to be sorry.  Too late to fix things.  Too late for everything.”

Sighing, he raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his face as he finally turned to face his partner.  And what he saw in Jim’s eyes ripped through his heart.  So much regret and grief and pain and guilt.  “Oh, no, no,” he husked, moving to wrap his arms around his lover, fiercely pulling him close.  “I’m sorry,” he rasped hoarsely.  “This isn’t about blame or guilt.  God, Jim, I want to be your partner with everything in me.  I want nothing more than to be your guide – honest to God, man, that’s all I want.  When you tossed me that badge, you made it possible for me to have the only thing I wanted – to be able to get past the diss and stay with you.  So it was easy to push the rest of it away, to forget about it.  It didn’t seem that important, you know?  Not … not if I could just be with you, always.  You hearing me?  If being your guide is all I ever am, that’s enough for me, more than enough.”

“It’s not enough,” Jim countered hoarsely, lifting his arms to hold Blair close.  “You nearly died, Chief.”

“But I didn’t because, like always, you figured out a way to save me,” he said fervently, giving Jim a little shake.  Pulling back a little, he looked into Jim’s eyes.  “I’m sorry I put you through all that, I really am.  If I could have a ‘do over’, I’d’ve taken care of all this differently, gotten a shaman who knew what he was doing to help me turn it off for real.  But it’s over now.  You heard Manuel.  He said he could help me put this genie back into the bottle until … until we’re both ready to let it out again.  We don’t have to worry about it anymore.  Nothing has to change, Jim.  We can go back to the way things have always been – you supercop, me watching your back.  It’ll be okay.  Everything will be okay.” 

Shaking his head, unable to accept that anything could be the same or that going backward was an option, Jim asked almost plaintively, “Why does it always have to be about me?”

“Man, it’s always been about you,” Sandburg replied as if it were only natural and right.  “You’re the sentinel.  You must’ve heard Manuel this morning.  He said it – my job is to help you and protect your back so you can protect everyone else.”

“I heard Manuel say a lot of things over the past few days,” Jim said, gazing earnestly at his partner.  “But I’m beginning to wonder if you were listening.”

“What?”

“He said that we all need to do the best we can, to the best of our ability,” Ellison paraphrased. 

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t tried,” Sandburg sighed, with a shrug.  “That’s my point.  My best never seems to be good enough.  And this profiler gig?  Man, what a mistake that was.  It was like turning on a faucet that wouldn’t stop gushing, you know?  That’s when it all got too much – completely out of hand.  I was doing okay up until then.  We were doing okay.”

“Do you even hear yourself?  Chief, you’re ….”  Jim paused, shook his head.  “Where do I even start?” he muttered.  Frowning, he went on, “Manuel also said that we shouldn’t make assumptions, right?”

“Right,” Blair agreed, his eyes narrowing, wondering where his partner was going.

“Okay.  It sounds to me like you’re basing all of your actions and decisions on one assumption – that it’s all about me.”

“Uh huh,” Blair nodded soberly.  “Because it is.”

“What if it isn’t?” Jim challenged, his voice soft, compelling.

“But it is.”

“Maybe not.  Hell, obviously not!”  When Sandburg looked like he was about to argue, Ellison held up a hand for patience.  “Hear me out, okay?”  Restless, needing to move, he pulled away to pace along the wide step.  When he turned, he said, “Alright.  Let’s work this through.  You decided to give up your academic career because it got in the way of being my guide.  You gave up all the potential you had, to focus on one thing.  me.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  It’s not that I don’t appreciate that.  And contrary to your opinion on the matter, you’re a great guide.  The best.”

“The only,” Blair sighed.

“Yeah, because it’s not easy, and it takes someone with special skills and intuition,” Jim agreed.  “But, even with all that, there is so much you’re not doing that you could be doing.  So much you’re not achieving.  You’re the best you can be, Chief – for me.  But you’re not the best you could be – for you.  That’s why you got sick.  You were denying something that is fundamentally a part of what and who you are.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sandburg argued, dropping to sit on the step, as if metaphorically dropping out of the conversation.  “Don’t you get it?  I want to be your guide.  More than anything else in this world.  Whatever that takes is okay.  Nothing else matters.”

“Matters to me,” Ellison stated bluntly, his lips thinning when Sandburg looked away.  Striding back along the stone riser, he hunkered down next to Blair.  “Like it matters to me when I hear you dish out a load of crap, fondly known as obfuscations, like you did last night to make your mother, and maybe me, feel better about the fact you trashed your career.”

“It wasn’t crap,” Blair retorted defensively, refusing to face him.

Snorting, Ellison sighed.  “Oh, come on.  As much as you remember it annoyed me, you seem to forget that I watched you mark thousands of papers over endless evenings, pulling all-nighters, scrambling to get ready for lectures or exams, juggling your office hours to accommodate me, and go without sleep for almost four years to get everything done.  And remember I’m the guy who listened to your hours upon hours of impromptu lectures about all the things in this world that you find fascinating and exciting, or about the kick you get out of teaching or helping some student learn how to make it in this life.” 

Reaching out to grip Blair’s shoulder, his voice softened as he said, “And I’m also the guy who could hear your heartbeat over the microphone when you gave that press conference – and you want me to believe that was the sound of relief when I know your heart was damned well breaking.  Fraud?”  Jim shook his head.  “You’re a fraud, all right.  You sure managed to convince your mother that all that shit was true.  Not that I blame you.  I know you had to find some way to get her to forgive herself or it would have torn your relationship with her apart.  But do not expect me to buy into it.  I know better.  Hell, she even bought the line about being happy.  But you’re not.”

“I’m happy with you,” Sandburg asserted passionately, turning to face his partner.  “I really am, Jim.”

“But you’re not happy being less than you’re capable of being,” Jim replied gently.  Lifting his hand, he stroked his fingers through Blair’s hair.  “I know you.  You would have found a way to juggle being my guide and being a prof at the U.  You juggled it for four years, and you were happy then.  Happier than you’ve been for a while now.”

Sandburg’s gaze fell away and he swallowed, the breath tight in his chest.  “Jim, don’t you understand yet that nothing is more important to me, means more to me, that you do?  Helping you, keeping you safe, is the most important thing I can do with my life.”

“Why does it have to be the only thing you do in your life?”

“Because when I try, like hoping to get my doctorate, or wanting to be a profiler, it doesn’t work,” he sighed.  “Inevitably, you get hurt.”

“Why is that your fault?”

“Because …”

“It’s your job to be my guide,” Jim sighed.  “Yeah, I get that part, okay?  What I’m asking is, why, when things don’t seem to work, is it all your responsibility, and yours alone, to fix it?”  When Blair simply shook his head helplessly, Ellison pushed harder.  “Blair, most people who love one another, who are passionately committed to making a life together, find a way to support one another, to face challenges head-on together.  You know that.  Why can’t we be like that?  What would be so wrong about me supporting you?”

“You support me all the time,” Sandburg argued.  “I’d never have made it this far if you hadn’t been a rock for me.”

“But it’s still all been about you fitting yourself to my role, my needs.  Trying to be like me, instead of just being yourself.  Chief, I never wanted you to change who you are.  Hell, I fell in love with the crazy grad student, remember?”

Huffing a bitter laugh, Sandburg rejoined, “Maybe so, but I was a cop when you told me.  But, regardless, you never banked on loving a crazy shaman.  The grad student might have been hyper and talked too much, but at least he didn’t have visions and hear voices that aren’t there.”

“Sure he did,” Jim insisted.  “He had a vision about finding a sentinel, and how great that sentinel could be if he just tried.  And he heard voices, only he called them non-verbal cues – same thing though.  He heard what people felt, what they needed, what they thought.  He was a healer, too.  He healed a heart long before he closed up a hole made by a cross-bolt.  The one thing that’s really different about the grad student and the cop, or the guy who isn’t sure he wants to be a shaman, is that the grad student still had dreams.  When he was a kid, he used to dream about being a shaman, about being able to help other people, lots of people.  Whole communities of people.  Inside, he’d still like to dream about being a shaman someday; I heard him say so.  But he won’t let himself dream anymore.”

“Yeah, well, you also heard him say that being a cop and a guide and a shaman aren’t compatible.”

“I think you’re wrong about that.  I think that’s a faulty assumption.”  When Sandburg looked away and bit his lip, Jim continued adamantly, “I think it’s high time I started to fit myself to your role, don’t you?  We’re equal partners, here, right?  This isn’t just a one-way street, or it shouldn’t be.”

“I don’t know, Jim,” Blair hesitated.  “What we do now pretty much takes all our time.  And I don’t have a clue what being a shaman would really mean.  I mean, how much time it would take?  And can you really imagine Simon or the others understanding all this?  I mean, the senses, they’re at least real.  But this vision stuff?  Clairvoyance?  It would blow all the credibility I’ve managed to earn on the force.  And … and that could impact on you, how you’re seen, because I’m your partner.”

“You know what I think?” Jim asked, shifting to sit and loop his arm around Blair’s shoulder.  “I think becoming a profiler was instinctively the best thing you could have done, and you were absolutely right to pursue the training,” he asserted.  “Think about it.  Profilers have a rep for being a bit odd, for seeing into the criminal mind and predicting what the murderers will do next.  Nobody would think you strange for just doing your job.  That’s, uh,” Ellison added more hesitantly, wondering if he was still too immersed in his own world and needs, “if you think being a cop can work at all for you.  If not, we can maybe work something else out, being a consultant or something.”

“Well, when you put it like,” Sandburg barked a laugh, rolling his eyes.  “Odd?  Strange?  Yeah, that definitely fits.”  Pausing to think about it, he nodded, marveling a little, “But, yeah, it does fit, doesn’t it?  Maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.”  Taking a breath, he said firmly, “So, yeah, a profiler.  And I have to keep the badge, not do it as a civilian consultant.  I have to be a cop, Jim,” Blair insisted.  “I have to have the right to be with you on all your cases, not just the ones I’m profiling.”

“Chief, you don’t like carrying a weapon,” he chided gently, his tone compelling and compassionate.  “Damn near kills you when you have to use it.  If being a cop isn’t going to work, we need to face that now and figure out what to do about it.”

Leaning into Jim’s embrace, Blair looked out over the jungle, his expression sober.  “Remember the last time I shot someone – that terrorist?” 

“I remember.”

“I told you I felt cold inside.  That I didn’t feel any guilt or remorse, and it scared me,” Sandburg said quietly, reflectively.  “When that sicko taxidermist called me a murderer, I wondered if he was right, if that’s what I was becoming: someone who could kill without conscience.  But I think I understand now why I didn’t feel guilt.”  Tilting his head to look up at Ellison, he said, “Manuel – he told me I had to be a warrior, to protect you.  And that’s what I was doing.  Protecting you; killing because I had no other choice.  Every time I’ve killed someone, I’ve done so in my role as your guide.” 

When Jim winced and looked away, Blair reached up to turn his face back.  “No, listen.  This isn’t about you feeling bad about me having to kill someone.  It’s about knowing that when I do, that I know it’s not wrong.  That it’s … it’s okay; unfortunate, sure – but necessary.  Neither of us wants to kill, if we don’t have to.  But you do it to protect the tribe, so you can live with it.  I do it to protect you, and I can live with that.  I couldn’t live with letting some asshole blow you away.  And that’s not just as your guide, Jim.  That’s the shaman part of me, too.  Because I’d be a guardian of the tribe, too.  The rage I felt – man, that was scary.  But I also knew it was right!  That I had to stop that bastard from killing any more innocent girls.  And if I’d’ve had to kill him to stop him, I could have done it without undue remorse – only regret, that his soul was so twisted, so lost to evil, that there was no saving him.”

Jim gazed into Blair’s eyes for a long moment and then he nodded.  Drawing Sandburg into a hug, holding him close, he said solemnly, “I’m sorry I was so blind for so long; so focused on me and my needs that I didn’t leave much room for you.  But I’m not that guy anymore, Chief.  I haven’t been for a while now.”

Laughing gently, Blair burrowed against him.  “I know that, Jim.  That guy would never have thought of bringing me here.  That guy didn’t have a father he could ask for help, or a brother to fly the plane.  And he sure wouldn’t have given up control to a strange peasant on my Mom’s recommendation.”  He paused and then went on slowly, “But that doesn’t mean you have to … to change even more.  Or at all, for that matter.  I love you, Jim, and I love being your partner, your lover and your guide.  I don’t have to be a shaman.  We don’t have to make room for that in our lives.  Certainly not now.  Maybe not ever.”

Jim shook his head and looked up at the sky.  “Just answer me this,” he said huskily.  “And I want the absolute truth.  If we can find a way to make it work, do you want to be a shaman?”

Blair was quiet for a long time before he nodded slowly against Jim’s shoulder.  “Yeah, man, I do,” he said softly.  “It scares me, you know?  I mean, the visions really are gruesome.  And … I really hope that every time I heal someone it doesn’t cause so much pain, not when I learn how to do it right, consciously; how to manage and channel the power instead of fighting it.  And, honestly, I don’t know if I’m ready for this.  But, yeah.  I would like to serve our people to the best of my ability, if you’re really okay with it and we could find a way to make it work with our jobs.”

Bowing his head to kiss Blair’s temple, Jim murmured, “Then we’ll find a way to make it work.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind having to, um, well, support all this?  It could become invasive, Jim.  There may be times when, I don’t know, we’ll have to challenge our orders if anyone, even Simon, tries to split us up again,” he murmured, still uncertain.  He’d spent so long focusing on only being Jim’s guide, on not seeing any room for anything else, he wasn’t at all convinced that this could work.

“I’m sure,” Jim affirmed, solid and confident, a smile in his voice.  Pausing, he rested his chin on Blair’s head.  His voice was thicker when he added huskily, “We’ll find a way.  I want you back, kid – the guy whose eyes used to sparkle, who was endlessly curious, who got so damned excited about the weirdest things.  I miss that guy.”  Sighing, finding words so much harder than action, he rasped, “I want you to be happy, more than anything.  I want you to be everything you can be, Chief.  I want to help you do that.  Would make me feel good to help.  Trust me, Chief.  Just, please, trust me, okay?  Let me know how to help.  Don’t hold back on me.  I really am ready to take that trip now, babe – ready to travel with you for the rest of my life down that path, wherever it leads.  I don’t know … I really don’t know what I would have done if … if I’d lost you.”

Tears blurred Blair’s eyes and he pressed his lips together against the lump that rose in his throat.  Closing his eyes, he let go of the last doubts, the last fears, let down all his walls and leaned into Jim, holding him fiercely.  A shiver rippled through him as he surrendered absolutely, no longer having to hide anything of himself.  Jim stroked his back, soothing him, caring for him, being there to hold onto.  His rock.  Sniffing, he blinked and nodded.  Swallowed hard and took a deep, cleansing breath.  “Thanks,” he whispered, when he could finally speak.  Sniffing again, he shifted to swipe at his eyes.  Looking up at Jim, he smiled, slowly at first, then brighter until his face was luminous and his eyes sparkled with irrepressible joy.  “I mean it, Jim.  Thank you for being such an incredible, phenomenal gift in my life – for making everything possible.  For … for letting me believe again that anything is possible.”  Reaching up to cup Jim’s cheek, he added wondrously, “And, most of all, for wholeheartedly letting me be me, and even so, still loving me for who I am, loving me so much.”

Jim’s gaze dropped but he smiled the small, sweet smile that melted Blair’s heart, the one that said he was profoundly moved but didn’t know what to say.  Looking away out over the jungle, he relaxed, incredibly relieved and immensely grateful to have once again seen that sparkle playing in Blair’s eyes.  It had taken awhile, and they’d come to the very edge of the abyss before they’d gotten it all straight, but they were finally okay, better than okay.  “So, uh,” he asked, needing it confirmed, “just to be sure I’m not making the wrong assumption here, does all that mean you do trust me now.  Fully?  Completely?”

“Fully and completely,” Blair replied without hesitation, still smiling brightly.  “Absolutely, unconditionally, with no doubts whatsoever.”

“Okay, then,” Jim nodded, and his own smile widened.  “Good thing,” he added, a teasing tone resonating in his voice, “I really didn’t want to go to shaman school on my own.”  He looked back at Blair, quirking his brow.  “You know, like Manuel said – we both have a lot to learn.”

“I’ll carry your books if you’ll go steady with me,” Blair teased back, seductively. 

Jim laughed and then kissed him soundly.  “Sounds like a deal – do you go all the way on the first date?”

“Hmm,” Blair murmured, waggling his eye brows.  “Come with me and be my love, and I’ll show you how far I’ll go.”

“You mean right now?” Jim asked, grinning.

“I mean right now,” Blair affirmed, leaping up and hauling Jim to his feet.  Dragging him by the hand, Blair laughed as he looked over his shoulder and said with bubbling happiness, “And, man, you are in for the ride of your life.”

Laughing, Jim allowed himself to be tugged along, but was surprised when Blair didn’t immediately start to ravish him when they got back to their chamber, but only stopped there long enough to shove the bedrolls into his arms and gather up the blankets, before pushing him back out into the corridor. 

“Where are we going?” Ellison asked bemusedly.  “To see the Ancestors?”

“No way, José,” Blair laughed.  “The Ancestors can wait, man.  This is about you and me.  Under the sky, in the sunlight, just you and me.”

Looking back over his shoulder, Jim felt compelled to point out, “But the, uh, exit is the other way, Chief.”

Snickering, Blair shook his head.  “This is not about being directionally-challenged, Jim.  This is about something a little different.  Something special.  Man, I am going to stimulate the most important sexual organ of your body in a way I have never stimulated it before.”

Coughing back the urge to choke, laughing, Jim snorted.  “Uh, Chief, you’ve never had any trouble getting a rise out of me, and if you’re planning to try some esoteric and potentially painful mating ritual from some dark, distant, truly unbelievably remote –”

“No, no!” his partner protested.  “Wrong organ, man.  Though I admit it’s pretty impressive, and come to think of it, there’s a lot of stuff I’ve never shown you, but….”  Stopping in his tracks, he looked up at Jim searchingly.  “You do know that ninety percent of sexual excitement and gratification is in your head, right?  That our brains are where really mind-blowing, pun definitely intended, sex happens?”

“In my head?” Ellison gaped, blinked and looked away.  “We’re going to sit in the sun and you’re going to talk my head off?  That’s hardly something new, Chief.  That’s this ride of a lifetime you’ve promised me?”  When Blair just winked at him and set off again along the corridor, he called out, “Sandburg!” 

Turning around to walk backwards, grinning from ear to ear, Blair called back, “You said you were ready to come on this trip with me, to follow the path anywhere – so, follow already!”  Whirling around, he started to run through the hallways, his laughter trailing behind, echoing against the stone.

Shaking his head, Jim huffed a laugh and then started to jog after him.  When they passed the stairwell to the roof, Ellison slowed a little, knowing there was only one other spot in the temple that was open to the sun.  Ambling along, he entertained himself with trying to guess what Sandburg was up to this time.  When he arrived in the open courtyard surrounding the bathing pool, he found his partner waiting, his face turned to the sun, his eyes closed as he basked in the heat – his clothing already lying in a heap on the stones beside him.

“Nude storytelling,” Jim observed dryly, enjoying the view immensely.  “Okay, that’s different.”

“Let’s just say this’ll be a story you won’t soon forget,” Blair returned huskily, lowering his head to gaze at Jim with smoldering eyes.  “Come on, I need those bedrolls to get stuff ready.  And would you get out of those clothes?”

“You’re not going to undress me?” Jim complained, dumping the sleeping bags on the paving.

“What, do I look like your servant?” Blair retorted with a grin as he shook out the bedding, layering the blankets over one bedroll, and then smoothing the second one on top, making a comfortable nest over the cold stone, choosing the softer cotton of the sleeping bag over the slightly scratchy blankets for Jim’s comfort. 

Agreeably, Ellison stripped off his shirt and his jeans and looked around.  “Now what?  We sit and you talk?”

“No, now we bathe,” Sandburg replied steadily, with no laughter, looking up at him from where he was kneeling by their improvised bed, his deep blue eyes solemn.  Standing, he again took his partner’s hand and drew him toward the pool.  “We bathe off all the hurts and all the pain.  All the doubts and sorrows and regrets.  We wash off all the past confusions and uncertainties.”  Leading Jim down the steps into the water, he paused and lifted his face to Jim’s.  “And when we come out, we’ll be fresh and new.  We’ll begin again, and affirm everything we mean to one another with no shadows upon us.”

Jim’s throat thickened and he looked away, his eyes glazing with the unexpectedness of how moving it was to leave all the shit behind them, to just wash it all away.  So easy, yet so profound.  Swallowing, he blinked away the moisture and nodded.  Looking down at Blair, he agreed huskily, “Good idea, Chief.  Real good idea.”

Smiling, well pleased that Jim understood and that it so evidently mattered to him, too, that they be able to move on unencumbered, Sandburg stepped down into the chest-deep water and then swam out to the waterfall, Jim stroking smoothly beside him.  Taking the lead, Blair washed his hands over his lover’s body, from the top of his head and then, submerging, continued the symbolic ritual down to Jim’s toes.  His hands were gentle but not sensual, the bathing about purification, not desire.  When he was finished and pushed back up through the surface, his hair streaming, Jim reached out to comb the sodden curls off his face, and then carefully mimicked the cleansing gestures. 

Photo Manip by Virginia Sky.

“And now, we can begin telling a new story, a better, completely honest, happier story about our lives together,” Sandburg said softly, his eyes glowing with anticipation.  They began to swim back toward the steps together, but Blair slowed and stopped to watch Jim step out. 

Looking back, Jim turned, wondering if he’d missed something.  “Uh, we’re done with the bath part, right?”

Nodding, Blair simply gazed at him, as if mesmerized, enraptured.

Uncertain, not used to Sandburg just looking at him that way, so disarmingly, vulnerably and blissfully in love, he dropped his gaze briefly and shrugged, unconsciously shy under the scrutiny.  “Chief?  Uh, why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m just enjoying the most beautiful creation on the face of this earth,” Blair murmured throatily.  “You are so, so gorgeous, man.  So perfect.”

Chuffing a laugh, Jim shook his head and waved his partner out of the water.  “We’re going to have to get those eyes of yours checked again, Junior,” he drawled.

Wading toward him, accepting a steadying hand as he climbed out, laughing, Sandburg shook his head.  “Nah.  You’ve just got no taste, Jim.  I mean, look who you fell in love with.  Short, usually hairy guy who wears glasses.  But you, man, you, you are a god.”

“Okay,” Jim grinned.  “If you say so.”

“I do say so.”  Leaning toward his partner, Sandburg cajoled, “Come on, man.  Work with me here.”  Waving his hands unconsciously, he explained earnestly, “I want to try something, okay?  I want to … to excite your senses in a different way.  Specifically, I want you to know, when we’re together, what I’m feeling, how you make me feel, so that you can enjoy my experience as well as your own.  It’s, well, maybe it’s crazy.  Maybe it’s impossible for anyone to really know what another person feels during sex, or ever for that matter, but I’d really like to give this a try.  I mean –”

Holding up his hands to stem the flow of words, chuckling indulgently, Jim cut in, “Okay, okay, I know what you mean.  You’re trying to con me into a test.”

“Well, yeah, sort of,” Sandburg huffed.  “But not really.  Just a … a different kind of sensory experience, that’s all.  You probably don’t remember, but I once told you that you’re so eloquent that you take my breath away.  Well, uh, this is about that, sort of.  About what you say to me, every day.  About how what you say makes me feel.”

Cocking a brow, crossing his arms, Jim looked around, remembering those moments, months ago now, in the shower in the loft.  He’d never quite known what Sandburg had meant and he’d often wondered.  Nodding, he agreed, “Okay.”

“Okay?  So, you’ll try this?” Blair looked at him, waiting.  When Ellison nodded and made a ‘get on with it’ motion, he said sternly, “You’re going to have to promise not to laugh.”

Rubbing his nose, Jim eyed him.  “Laugh?” he echoed, amused.  “Is hearing what you feel likely to make me laugh?”

“Well, yeah, probably,” Sandburg admitted sheepishly.  “I mean – well, we’re not exactly mushy about how we feel, usually, I mean, you know?  But, um, sometimes, inside,” he stammered, endeavoring to express himself, his throat tight, looking everywhere but at his partner, “well, actually, most of the time, inside ….”  He threw his hands up and gave Jim a straight look.  “It might be embarrassing, uncomfortable, all right?  Like a bad romance novel or something – that’s all.  For both of us, maybe.”

“Romance novel?” Jim choked, trying very hard not to laugh.

“Okay, fine, if you don’t want to do this,” Blair sighed, turning away to step toward the pile of blankets. 

“No, wait,” Jim called, reaching out to grip his arm and turn him back.  “Okay.  Sure.  Let’s give it a try.  How tough could it be?  I just need to listen, right?”

Nodding, Blair gave him a skeptical look.  “You sure?”

“Yeah, Sandburg, do your worst.  I can take it,” Jim asserted.  “Really, Chief.  You want to try this, I’m game.”

“Okay,” Blair nodded vigorously.  “Okay.”  Unconsciously lifting his hands in the air as if holding an invisible beach ball, he bowed his head, thinking about how to begin.  Laughing softly to himself, he shook his head, and then took a deep breath to center himself.  Lifting his face to Jim’s, he studied his partner’s face, and he seemed to grow calm, a surety coming into his dark, sapphire eyes, and then he smiled softly as he reached out to lightly clasp Ellison’s arm.  When he spoke again slowly, his voice was pitched low, compelling:  his guiding tone.  “Alright, I just want you to relax, okay?  You don’t have to say anything; don’t ever have to say anything about this.  Close your eyes, Jim.  Take a deep breath.  Feel this place.  Drink it in with all your senses.  Feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, languid and warm.  Smell the flowers and the trees, the rich earth.  Listen to the air whispering through the leaves, soft, rustling, the wind sharing secrets with the birds, and being rewarded with their songs.  This place, this now, is where we begin our path.  Wherever it leads, however far it goes, this is the true beginning.” 

When his voice died away, Jim tilted his head and nodded, and then opened his eyes to gaze around the courtyard, imprinting the grotto in his memory. 

When he returned his attention to Blair, Sandburg exhaled and said with lingering nervousness, “Okay, here goes, man.  Do you know the four things I find most beautiful about you?  Four, by the way, being the Chinese number for balanced perfection?”

“No, no, I don’t, Chief,” Jim smiled indulgently, curious and instinctively wanting to put Blair at ease.  “You’ve never told me.”

Sandburg slipped his hand down along his partner’s arm to clasp his hand and lift it, and then he looked down to trace his fingertips over the palm and long, slender fingers.  “Your hands, man.  I love your hands.  They’re so strong, you know?  When you hold me, I can feel your power and it blows me away.  But, your fingertips are so sensitive; you touch so delicately sometimes, just barely there.  I wonder what you’re feeling then – but what I feel?  Jim, when you drift your fingertips over my skin it’s … it’s ….”  He shook his head, looked around the courtyard and then up into Ellison’s eyes.  “I turn to jelly inside, man.  When you touch me like that.  Mush, pure mush.” 

Looking into those clear, candid eyes, seeing such love for him shining there, Jim felt his throat tighten and, glad he wasn’t required to speak, he could only nod, surprised and profoundly moved. 

“And the next most beautiful part of you?” Sandburg offered, his gaze falling away, though he moved closer.  “I love your penis, man,” he admitted, reaching to clasp his partner’s cock, his grasp sure and intimate, smiling at the response to his touch.  “I love how it grows in my hand, long and hard but so silken, showing me that I excite you and that you want me.”  Holding Jim in a firm, even possessive grip, he lifted his gaze to again meet Jim’s.  “And I love, god, I love having you inside me, so that we’re joined in the most intimate way possible.  I love how it feels when you’re loving me with passion and want and need and desire, trusting me enough to lose yourself in me.  I love watching you when you’re thrusting into me, possessing me.  I love the way I fit around you, holding you close, possessing you.  It’s … it’s like, shit, where are the words when I need them?” he sighed, looking away.  “This warmth and excitement grows in my belly and it just builds and builds, filling me up so I can hardly breathe and I just feel so … so complete, you know?  Like perfect joy and the best adventure and … and, god, I love you so much and right then, right then, it’s like we’re one person, one being.  And there’s nothing else in the world.  Just us.”

Jim moaned low in his throat, beginning to ache with the want of that union, the need of it.  Reaching up, he caressed Blair’s face, lifting his chin and then leaned down to kiss him, deeply. 

Reaching up with both hands, Blair cupped Jim’s face.  When they broke a little apart, Blair breathed against his lips, “And the next most beautiful thing about you is your mouth.”  Tracing his fingers lightly over Jim’s lips, studying them, he murmured, “Do you know that you have this sweet, sweet smile that tells me when I’ve just done or said something that has touched you so deeply that I’ve reached right down to your soul?  Or that when you smile, really smile with laughter and unrestrained joy, you light up the world?  You’re so solemn so much of the time, Jim, that that uninhibited, effervescent smile is rare and so, so precious.  When I can make you smile like that, man – it makes me feel so good, you know?  That I can make you that happy.  This mouth has breathed life into my body and allowed me to be here, now, with you.  When you kiss me, lick me, suck me, swallow me, it’s unbelievable.  Like nothing I’ve ever, ever experienced before.  I feel so incredibly alive when your mouth, your lips are on me.  Everything tingles and everything is so incredibly vibrant.”

Looking up, searching Jim’s gaze steadily, his eyes soft with adoration, he said softly, “But the most beautiful – what I love best of all – are your eyes.  Sometimes, they’re cool, like an arctic wind on a hot day, and sometimes, they’re angry, snapping with emotion.  And sometimes, sometimes, they glint with laughter, or smolder with fire.  There is such determination and compassion and integrity and decency and courage and sweetness and love inside you … and I can see it all in your eyes.  They’re the windows to your soul, man.  They let me inside; let me see the man who means everything to me.  And, you know what, Jim?  When we’re so old that your hands are gnarled with the passage of time, so incredibly ancient that we’re in some seniors’ home somewhere in side by side beds, so damned old, man, that you’ve lost all your teeth – I’ll still be able to look into these incredible eyes and see you, as you are now.  As you always will be.  You, Jim.  You.  The bravest, most noble man I’ve ever known.  The man I love beyond all reason, hold most precious, cherish beyond words and always will, beyond everything and everyone in this life.”

Jim’s eyes glimmered, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came.  Swallowing heavily, he drew in a shuddering breath and pulled Blair against his body, holding on.  Just holding on.  When his breathing settled, Blair kissed the pulse-point at the base of his throat and then eased away to walk across the warm stones toward the bed he’d made for them.  Jim started to follow, but Blair turned to hold up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Look at me, Jim,” he urged, his voice low, compelling.  “See how just looking at you excites me.”  Brushing his hand over one taut nipple and then letting it drop to his groin, he said, his voice mesmerizing, “See how my flesh grows and hardens for the want of you, see the desire I have for you.  Listen, Jim.  Hear the breath getting short in my chest and know it means that I’m aching for your touch, practically shivering with wanting you to touch me, to love me.  Smell my pheromones mingling with the scent of everything else around us.” He paused, took a breath to steady his voice.  “And look into my eyes, and see my soul.  See how much I love you because I just don’t have words for that, man.  There are no words for something that fierce and that poignant and that eternal.”  They gazed into one another’s eyes for a long, still moment, and then Blair whispered hoarsely, “Touch me, Jim.  I want so bad for you to touch me.”

With a gentle, bemused, smile on his lips, his eyes dark with passion, Jim moved slowly across the paving and reached out with his fingertips, to stroke Blair’s face, throat and shoulders. 

“Make love to me, Jim,” Blair commanded huskily, “and when you … when you feel my skin under your lips and hands, when you hear my heart race for love of you, and hear me gasp with exultant pleasure, when you thrust into me and feel me tighten around you, and when you watch me and see my eyes bright with the joy of it and as I writhe in ecstasy – know with every touch, every breath how I’m feeling, how you make me feel every time you make love to me.  And imprint it all, this place, this time, this beginning in your heart.”

Nodding slowly, Jim bent his head to capture lips that had captivated him with such unexpected words of trust and vulnerability; words, revelations, that had touched him as no one had.  He felt such tenderness and such profound, poignant love filling him, brimming to overflowing, thrumming through his whole being. 

His hands caressed Blair’s body, and then he drew him down.  Every touch, every sound, every movement held more than he’d experienced before, because he knew as he caressed and kissed, and was caressed in his turn, not only how it was feeling in the moment for him, but how it felt for Blair, too, until their lovemaking formed a multidimensional tapestry of sensation.  He knew love, felt love, gave and received love, as he’d never known it before, but would always know it again.  As he lavished his love, gave all he was, he smelled the sweetness of the flowers, heard the patter of the waterfall, the hush of the wind, the song of the birds and his lover’s voice, murmuring encouragement, sharing his rapture, and crying out with joy.

Photo Manip by Peter.

Jim woke to a sense of peace and content beyond anything he had ever known before.  For long moments, he simply lay with Blair spooned against him, holding his lover close, savoring the moment and the memories, and then smiling as he thought of the days and years to come.  But this place, this time, was theirs and theirs alone. 

Gradually, his thoughts turned to the ritual still to come in the Hall of the Ancestors, and he grew restless.  Easing away from Sandburg, smiling down at the beloved face, he stretched and stood to ramble through the corridors to the chamber containing the Pool of the Ancestors.  Bleak in the half-light, grungy with the neglect of centuries, he found the idea of any kind of ritual here unsatisfying, let alone one that might have profound impact on them both.  Accordingly, he set about putting the chamber into the best order he could manage with the limited tools at hand.  He made a reed broom, and swept it clean, sneezing more than once and reflecting that he’d need another plunge in the bathing pool when he was done.  Using a shirt as a rag, he wet the cotton in the pool and did his best to clean the statues and wall carvings, though he left the frescoes, afraid he might damage them.  Going outside, to the jungle, he gathered twigs and bound them with reeds for torches, and plucked fragrant and colorful blooms.  Back in the grotto, he placed the bundles of twigs in the metal wall sconces, and then scattered the petals around the edge of the pool to freshen and scent the air, but was still unsatisfied. 

He paused for a moment, listening.  Blair was still deeply asleep.  So he headed to the chamber they shared.  Gathering an armful of wood from their stock in one corner, and some fragrant herbs Naomi had harvested from the jungle, he went back to the Hall, built a small campfire on the flagged stone over an ancient burn area that was still rounded by small, rounded rocks.  Patiently, he sifted herbs into the flames, finally banishing the moldy odor of mildew the flowers hadn’t been able to defeat on their own. 

Satisfied that he’d done as much as he could to make the grotto appealing, he returned to their nook.  Finding the pouch of herbs that Sandburg had shoved into his jeans pocket, he opened it and sniffed delicately, finding the scent of the dried, powdered herbs or whatever it was pungent but not unappealing.  He couldn’t place what it was, didn’t recognize the scent at all.  Sighing, wondering what effects they’d experience, he dropped the pouch in a pot, picked up a cup, a bottle of water and grabbed a couple blankets to cover the stone floor, and carried everything to the Hall.  Surveying his preparations, he decided it was as ready, welcoming and comfortable as he could make it. 

Returning to the sun-dappled garden, still warm though shadows were beginning to reach across the stone paving, he took a quick dip in the pool to rinse off sweat and dust, and then sat on a low wall to simply watch his lover sleep, smiling with tender fondness and quiet happiness.  Blair woke a half an hour later, stretched languorously, a contented purr-like thrumming in the back of his throat.  Looking around, he saw Jim and smiled with vibrant life, so vivid, so luminous that he took Jim’s breath away.  His color was healthy, his eyes clear and sparkling; his curls, damp when he’d fallen asleep were a glossy, tangled frame to his face, and his heartbeat was strong and steady. 

“Hey,” he said, sitting up, raking his hair back. 

“Hey, yourself,” Jim called softly in reply.  “Thank you.”  When Blair’s brows quirked questioningly, he added, “I’ll never forget this place or … or how it all felt.  You were right.  It was like nothing I’ve ever felt before.  Like we’ve started something fresh and … and … solid.  Beautiful.  Lasting.”

Blair’s smile softened as he nodded slowly.  “We have.”

Looking away, unable to banish all trace of the nervous uncertainty he felt, despite his commitment to see the ritual through, Jim asked, “So you think we’re ready to meet the Ancestors?”

Sandburg yawned and stretched, thought about it and nodded.  “Yeah,” he replied, anticipation glowing in his eyes.  “I think we’re ready – how about you?”

Jim nodded and stood, holding out a hand to hoist Blair to his feet.  Following Manuel’s instructions, they bathed again, and then they wrapped themselves in blankets against the chill of the early evening air.  Entwining Sandburg’s fingers with his own, he drew his partner forward out of the grotto, but slowed his pace once in the corridor so that they could walk side by side. 

When they entered the dim Hall, Blair took an appreciative breath of the freshened, fragrant air.  “You’ve been busy,” he observed, watching Jim get a new fire going and then light the torches. 

“Uh huh,” Ellison grunted and gestured toward the pot and the bottle of water.  “The pouch Manuel gave you is in the pot.  Since we don’t know how long before the effects take hold or how long they last, I thought we should probably prepare and drink the tea in here.”

“Good thinking,” Blair replied approvingly as he hunkered down.  He poured water into the pot, shook in the packet of herbs and set it to boil.  Looking up at his partner, he asked, “You nervous?”

“Aren’t you?” Jim countered, sinking down beside him.  “You know I’m not a big fan of visions and hallucinogenic, uh, herbs.”

“I’m more curious than nervous, actually,” Sandburg replied, looking around the chamber.  “This place is incredible, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jim sighed, nodding.  “Incredible.”

Reaching out to take hand, Blair said solemnly, “Thank you for taking this trip with me, Jim.  I know this isn’t easy for you, but I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“I know,” Ellison allowed stoically.  “Manuel wouldn’t hurt either of us.”  Looking away, studying the magnificent art, ancient renderings of others like them and then, returning his gaze to Sandburg, he said, “I should have come here with you before now.  Our trip is long overdue.”

“Maybe,” Sandburg shrugged.  Reaching for the boiling pot, shifting it off the fire to steep, he countered, “But I think we really needed the time, to be ready for this.”

Swallowing, Jim nodded.  “Maybe.”

A few minutes later, Blair carefully poured the tea into the mug.  He blew on the hot brew to cool it, and then handed the cup to his partner.  Jim held it out and offered a toast.  “To us.”

“To us,” Blair returned, adding, “It’ll be fine, Jim.  Really.  Whatever we see or learn, what we already have is great, man.  Really great.  Nothing will change that.”  Smiling encouragingly into Jim’s eyes, he watched his partner take his first sip. 

Jim tasted the potion gingerly, and found it was sharp, slightly sour and tangy; quirking his brows in a mute acknowledgement that it wasn’t too bad, he passed the cup to Sandburg, and then they took turns, not rushing it, taking their time. 

But it didn’t take long to share a single, small cup.  Short minutes later, they’d consumed the tea and were already feeling languid.  The firelight seemed softer, burnishing their skin, the combined scents of the flowers, herbs and burning wood mingled in the air, pleasing, satisfying; the only sounds in the chamber hidden deep within the temple of stone, were the crackle of the fire, the soft bubbling of the pool and their breathing.  Sitting chastely on either side of the fire, they gazed at one another, finding all that they saw beautiful, desirable … beloved. 

“I guess we should get into the pool while we can still stand,” Jim suggested, blinking and shaking his head slightly.

“Your senses okay, man?” Blair asked, immediately shifting around to crouch by him, laying a hand on his arm.

“Yeah, fine,” Jim replied, scratching his cheek, narrowing his eyes to peer around the chamber.  “Just a little fuzzy.”

“C’mon, I’ll help you get into the water,” Sandburg offered, taking his weight as he stood dizzily, and carefully assisting him into the pool. 

Cut out of the stone foundations of the ancient temple, the pool was fed by bubbling hot springs and a slight haze of steam rose from its surface.  The smooth rock descended in tiers subtly slanted, sculpted and shaped to accommodate people so that their bodies were covered with the gently roiling waters as they sat, reclined or knelt without any danger or discomfort of their faces slipping below the surface.

After getting Jim settled, mindful of the platonic relationship that was the norm between the pairings that had come before them, Blair lay down close beside him but left about a foot of space between them.  Reaching for his partner’s hand, they entwined their fingers and staring up at the dark ceiling and the carved circular opening directly above, they watched night descend and waited for whatever visions might emerge.  Slow minutes passed as they relaxed into the effects of the potion, allowing anxieties and tensions to drift away.  Alone, in the heart of the isolated ruin of a once magnificent stone temple, miles from anywhere and anyone in the lost reaches of the jungle, they waited for whatever might happen.  But the profound silence, the warmth of the water, the bubbles against their skin were irresistibly erotic, distracting, and the breath tightened in their chests as their mouths grew dry with desire for one another. 

Restless, trying to focus his thoughts on what Manuel had told them about the purpose of this ceremony, tightening his grip on Blair’s hand, Jim murmured huskily, teasingly seductive, “You’re family, Chief.  But you know, I don’t think of you as a brother.”

Smiling with amusement at the irreverent tone, Sandburg huffed a small laugh.  “Well, once I might have felt brotherly toward you, but not for a long, long time, that’s for sure,” he willingly admitted.

“Hmm,” Jim purred rolling onto his side, bored with waiting for what might never happen.  “You think it’s supposed to take this long,” he asked, tracing a delicate fingertip along his lover’s lower lip.  “Maybe it’s not going to work?”

“Oh, man, I don’t know,” Blair whispered hoarsely, turning to mush at the ephemeral touch, pretty sure his partner was being deliberately provocative and knew exactly what he was doing.  He shifted his wide gaze – dark and limpid from the effects of the drug, glittering with reflected firelight – from the ceiling to meet Jim’s eyes.  “Maybe … if this is going to work, Manuel said there had to be truth here.  That we … we have to be honest, open, about who and what we are to one another.  And, man, brothers sure ain’t it.”

Inhibitions muted by the potion and the erotic bubbling of the warm water on his skin, no longer particularly worried about shocking the Ancestors – if indeed, any were watching, which he doubted -- seeing the desire for him sparking in Blair’s eyes and unable to resist, Jim bent down over him, to kiss him.  Clasping one another’s faces, their need, their soul-deep affinity and affiliation rapidly blew the sparks into passionate flames as they kissed more deeply.  Hands slipped beneath the water, to caress and stroke with growing desire. 

Their hunger for one another became powerful, demanding, urgent.  Needing union, craving it desperately, they moaned into one another’s mouths and Jim shifted closer, sliding to kneel between Blair’s splayed legs.  Groaning gutturally, no longer fully aware of where they were or why, only knowing they wanted one another, loved one another passionately, they kissed deeply and stroked one another’s bodies, needing to be complete in their unity.  Blair leaned back against the slanted stone that seemed shaped for his body and Jim bent over him, their mouths locked together, tongues dancing, sucking.  Blair moaned deep in his throat, gripped Jim’s erection and stroked hard even as he thrust up against his lover’s belly, needing, wanting.  Jim’s fingers caressed him, traveling down his straining cock to massage his balls, and then drifted back to open him.  The ring of muscle responded eagerly to his probing, stroking fingers, loosening quickly.  Blair moaned and thrust against him again, and locked his legs around Jim’s body, pressing his heels into his lover’s back to urge him forward. 

In one smooth thrust, Jim filled him and Blair arced against him, throwing his head back, eyes wide, bright with incandescent pleasure and he cried out with the ecstasy that spiraled higher and higher.  Jim rocked his hips, shifted to a better angle and thrust deep again, a moan in his own throat as he closed his eyes and savored the incredible silken tightness of his lover undulating around him, stimulating him until he had to pant for breath.  On the third thrust, the grotto around them disappeared behind a floating silver and blue mist that swirled around them.  There a was muted rumbling like distant thunder and streaks of light flashed bright, sharp illumination on the edges of their vision.  Dots danced.  Jagged lines of light pulsed … and with each subsequent thrust as Blair arced to meet him, visions filled their minds ….

The jaguar prowled through the jungle, muscles rippling, alert, hunting, protecting, the wolf pacing close by, devoted through endless ages; their spirit guides come to lead them to the Ancestors ….

There were sounds, voices, words they did not understand, but the tones were of welcome and respect as pair after pair of sentinels and guides, shamans both, appeared out of the blue mist that veiled the ages past.  Men and women, women and women, women and men, men and men – sentinels strong and muscular, carrying weapons; guides standing squarely beside them, sometimes armed the same, sometimes with smaller, more personal weapons in their belts.  Genders and roles were mixed and evidently of no consequence to their roles as guardian pairs; all that mattered was their unique ability, their courage, their integrity, and their commitment to serve their people, to stand by one another, to never falter.  Their garb was leather or rough cloth, and they were adorned with feathers or beads, sometimes with paint, in accordance with their disparate cultures that ranged the world from time immemorial. 

Over and over, images rose and waned in their minds, visions repeating the same or similar actions, behaviors or events – over and over with each thrust – until the new initiates to the heritage of the ages understood the teaching of the imagery, and then the mist would ripple and different partners, different scenes, different messages would emerge ….

Sentinels and shamans comforted one another:  after battle, after sorrows, after fear, after quiet days or strenuous effort, held one another staunchly while mourning losses, and laughed together, celebrating new births, new beginnings, until the new ones understood.  They were to take their turns supporting and nurturing one another, and sharing joy, to find peace and restore their strength and their commitment regardless of danger or threat or exhaustion ….

Sentinels stalking, hunting, standing between their tribes and threat, engaging in furious, desperate battle; their shaman/guides beside them, grounding them, standing guard and protecting them, sometimes fiercely; an easy lesson, one they’d already learned well and recognized swiftly ....

Shamans lost in visions, sentinels standing watch over them; shamans teaching, healing, confronting anger and fear, sentinels standing with them, protecting them, holding them, comforting them.  A harder lesson, one just barely accepted.  Blair moaned, closed his eyes, still afraid for his partner.  Jim whispered, “Yes …” into his mouth and thrust deeply, stroking again and again until his partner again surged against him, the lesson acknowledged and understood, welcomed ….

Passion, desire, love, need and want, thrusting against one another; visions blossoming; the bubbling water like hundreds of fingers touching, stroking, caressing; mist swirling around them.  Jim felt his orgasm build and his hips rocked faster, harder.  Blair tightened around him, muscles rippling as Jim thrust and came hard, deep within his lover. 

The vortex swirled and, somehow, Jim found himself lying against the stone and Blair was opening him, filling him, thrusting into him and more visions erupted within them ….

Spirit animals appeared then, their images blurring with the humans they represented, visages of family, friends and colleagues and sometimes faces they did not yet know.  A bear, an owl, a falcon, a horse, eagle and hawk, a fox and otter; all of them noble, majestic, standing watch, soaring high, prowling … spirits and humans to be called upon for guidance and strength, for power, for understanding and support ….

Sentinels falling, sorely wounded, shamans healing ….

Shamans crumpled, limp and still, and sentinels calling forth their spirit guides and clasping their shamans close ….

Darkness, turmoil, danger, other animals prowling, snarling, eyes flashing with threat, chaotic visions of spirit animals engaged in riotous, intense, endless battle, good against evil ….

Sentinels and shamans talking, laughing, comforting, touching with affectionate tenderness, lightly, casually, beloved family to one another, aligned with one another, through all their days, infinite commitment eternally expressed ….

With each stroke, new visions, new lessons until the images of everyday life ceased, and there were only sentinels and shamans, male and female, eyes filled with compassion and understanding, expressions strong and glowing with luminous, unconditional, familial love; water rippling, caressing them like thousands of fingers reaching out to touch, to reassure, to support, until they understood these souls were with them always, part of them, caring for them, watching over them ….

Blair thrust faster and deeper, filling Jim, exploding within him, crying out with aching love and triumphant passion, claiming his own ….

And Jim pulled him close, kissing him deeply, possessing him even as he was possessed ….

The mists swirled, the faces and hands of the Ancients faded and the contours of the chamber, the flickering light of the flames and the scents of herbs and flowers again became real.  Blair sprawled bonelessly over Jim, while warm water caressed them.  They clung together, sated, sure of nothing but the feel of one another’s embrace.  Their breathing evened out, slowed, drowsiness crept over them, sleep seducing awareness away. 

“Wow,” Blair breathed, blinking owlishly, his head heavy on his partner’s shoulder.  “Guess the Ancestors value honesty.”

“And apparently they’re not easily shocked by a relationship different from their own,” Jim murmured with a low chuckle, nuzzling his temple before stirring reluctantly.  Shifting, sitting up, he mumbled dazedly, “C’mon, sleepyhead.  We gotta move.”

But Blair didn’t stir.  “They didn’t show us,” he whispered, his voice cracking, “they didn’t show one losing the other.  Didn’t show us how to live through that – how to survive that.”

“Maybe because this is about the beginning, Chief,” Jim rumbled reassuringly, stroking fingers soothingly through his hair, “not the end.”  Though, in his heart, his soul, he was certain there could be no way to survive that loss, for the will to survive would be gone and the need to follow intense – or at least it would that way for him, if not for the those Ancestors who had gone before.  He knew with every fiber in his being that Blair was as essential to him as the air he breathed, had felt the truth of it when he’d been so afraid Blair would die.

He could only hope that the same was not true for his beloved, but he suspected it was the same for Blair – their live force was now inextricably entwined.  But he did not want to speak of endings now.  Wanted only to be, to live, to do the work they were meant to do together, and to be together, always.

Blair thought about what he’d said and then nodded slowly, and a smile of contented anticipation of all their lives together would hold blossomed, lighting his eyes.  Jim stood and drew him up, and they clung to one another for a long moment. 

Photo Manip by Peter.

Then, supporting one another, exhausted, unsteady and slightly dizzy, they climbed out of the heated pool, shivering in the sudden coolness of the air caressing their bodies.  Jim hauled the blankets over their shoulders, and they slowly walked across the stone floor, along the corridors back to the garden grotto.  Sinking into their nest, awkwardly pulling the covers over their wet nakedness, they curled together.  Secure in one another’s arms, they slept.

When they woke, dawn was barely lightening the sky, and the air was damp, still chilled from the night.  Lingering under the blanket, sharing warmth, Blair murmured, “Oh, man, was that incredible or what?  Last night, I mean?  Did you see what I saw?”

Chuckling at the stream of questions before he was hardly even awake, Jim rolled his eyes.  “Real?  What?  The part where we saw visions induced by some hallucinogen, or the part where we humped like bunnies?” he asked dryly, rolling his eyes. 

Swatting his arm, Sandburg growled playfully, “Don’t give me that ‘hallucinogen’ crap.  Did you see them?”

Taking a deep breath, tightening his embrace and remembering the faces in the mists that had surrounded them, Jim admitted, “Yeah.  I saw them.  Could even feel them touching me.”  Sighing, he tilted his head to look at Sandburg, finding wide eyes studying him intently.  “Pretty wild trips you take me on, Sandburg,” he teased, grinning slowly.  “Exciting rides and great visual effects.”

Blair snorted, but smiled indulgently.  “Seriously, man.  What did you think about it?”

Shrugging his shoulders, rolling his neck, his expression bemused, Ellison replied slowly, thoughtfully, “Well, I think we’ve done damned well without the mandatory orientation program.  We’ve gotten most of it right, Chief, at least lately.  Sometimes by accident, maybe, or without always knowing what we’re doing or how, but our instincts have been good and, yesterday, we … we finally found our path, the right path for us.  Frankly, I think we’ve got a helluva a lot more going for us than most of those ancient partners had.  Gotta tell ya, though, I’m not all that excited about the idea of all these guys and gals watching over us.  Feels a little invasive.” 

Snickering, reflecting that it might be a tad too late to worry about being watched over after their, uh, honesty in the pool the night before, Blair sat up, pulling the blanket with him to wrap around his shoulders against the chill oozing from the stones.  Cool air on his chest made Jim shiver a little, but he didn’t complain, too engaged in enjoying the sound of the light-hearted laughter.  “Without the help of whatever was in that potion, I don’t think we’ll know they’re around, most of the time, anyway,” Sandburg reassured him.  “Don’t worry about it.”

Shrugging, Ellison pushed himself to his feet and reached a hand to draw Blair up after him.  “Well, I guess we should head off, catch up with Manuel and the others in town.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sandburg agreed.  “We need some basic, ‘shamanism for dummies’ information to get started with.  But I want to come back here, Jim.  There’s still so much we need to learn, you know?  Man, we’ve barely scratched the surface of the knowledge that’s in this place.”

“Uh huh,” Jim agreed, gathering up the bedrolls and extra blanket, and ambling out ahead of him.  “Don’t forget fishing, Sandburg.  At least once a year.”

Laughing, Blair trailed after him.  “Hey, I like fishing, too, man,” he chimed.

Looking back over his shoulder, Jim couldn’t help but grin at how waif-like Sandburg looked, huddling under the blanket, especially as their beards hadn’t yet reappeared, with his mangy hair, all wide-eyed with excitement like a kid imagining the most incredible adventures.  Chuckling, he reminded himself there sure hadn’t been anything waif-like about his partner in the pool the night before.  But God it was good to see that light in his face again, the sparkle in his eyes and the lively bounce to his step.

They dressed before having a leisurely breakfast and then, after dowsing the fire, they packed up their gear.  It took an hour to load the jeep.  Then, Jim’s arm around his shoulders, and Blair’s looped around his partner’s waist, they did one last walk around the temple to the rooms where Manuel had taught them, to the Hall of the Ancestors and then to the grotto with the waterfall.  “We’ll be back,” Jim promised as he tugged on Blair’s shoulders to get him moving again, and they wandered thoughtfully back through the corridors. 

Slowing by the entry to the Eye of God grotto, Jim peered through the shadows at the two pools, relieved to find his memories no longer evoked bleak despair.  “One day, we’ll be ready to try those pools, Jim,” Blair murmured encouragingly.  Nodding, Ellison turned away and they sauntered out of the temple into the sunlight, and ambled down the steps.  Jim paused for a moment more at the bottom to look back at the edifice, his feelings upon this departure far different from the last time. 

“Bad things have happened here,” Blair said quietly, again slipping an arm around his waist, pulling him close.  “But it’s a good place, Jim.  A very special place.”

“Yeah, Chief,” he agreed huskily, “it is.”  He dropped a kiss on Blair’s forehead, and then they made their way to the jeep.  Climbing in, Jim smiled as he looked around and then at his partner, his eyes glazed with deep emotion.  “Feels good to be taking you home, babe.  Feels real good.”

Placing a warm hand on his thigh, Blair nodded.  “Thanks to you, I get to grow old with you,” he said softly.  Leaning toward one another, Jim cupped his face tenderly and they kissed.  And then Jim turned on the ignition, shifted the gears and steered into the jungle, taking them back to Sierra Verde, to their first lessons as shamans, to their family, and home.

Photo Manip by Akablonded.

Epilogue

Naomi’s laughter rang high over William’s lower chuckle, while Simon and Steven good-naturedly debated the final play, the television still droning in the background.  Blair hustled the last steaming dishes of the family banquet to the linen-draped rosewood table and shook his head at the sheer amount of food that everyone had brought for their communal meal at William’s home.  Silverware gleamed and crystal sparkled under the elegant chandelier.  Standing by the buffet, Jim opened the rare and very delectable bottles of merlot that his father had insisted upon providing for their dinner.  Filling the glasses, he bellowed, “Soup’s on,” and Sandburg snickered. 

“Classy, Jim,” he teased, patting his partner’s rump as he slipped by to his chair.  “The Army teach you those manners?”

Shrugging, Ellison grinned.  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to shoot you.”

“Shoot Blair?” Naomi exclaimed, coming into the dining room.  “Why would you do that?”

Sighing and shaking his head, Jim gave her an elaborate look of strained forbearance, “So many reasons, Naomi.  It would take at least a week to list all the ways your son drives me crazy.”

“Well, I suspect that that’s a list we don’t really need to hear,” William chuckled, winking at his son.  “Depending, of course, on what you mean by ‘crazy’.”

Blair broke out laughing at the stupefied look on his partner’s face as his father’s blatantly lewd teasing.  Simon’s laugh rumbled as he patted William on the shoulder.  “You’ll do,” he said, grinning as he moved forward to gallantly draw out a chair for Naomi, and then settled down beside her. 

The Ellison men sorted themselves out, William taking the chair at one end of the table, with Stephen and Blair to his right, Naomi and Simon to his left, and Jim facing him at the other end. 

“Well,” William observed, lifting his glass and sniffing appreciatively at the rich dark wine, “some families like to say Grace before a meal, and Lord knows, I thank him every day for the blessings this year has brought.  But I thought, this evening, we might just have a moment of reflection to think about what we are each most thankful for this year.”

The others nodded as they lifted their own glasses and stared into them.  Simon cleared his throat.  “You might not have meant us to share our thoughts, Bill, but I just want to say, well … with Darryl gone back east to go to school, I’m very grateful to all of you.  Instead of being alone today, you’ve made me a part of your family, a family I care about, very much.  So, thank you.  All of you.”

“Here!  Here!” Blair called sonorously, “Sir!” making them all laugh. 

“I want to thank everyone here, too,” Naomi said then, her voice soft, tentative.  Looking toward Jim, she said, tremulously, “But I’m most thankful to you – because if you didn’t love him so much, Blair wouldn’t be here today, and be so radiantly happy, and we wouldn’t be giving thanks.  It wasn’t … an easy year.  But we’ve come through it whole, and for that I’ll always be grateful.”

Blair slipped his hand into Jim’s and squeezed gently, and then smiled at his mother.

Steven shook his head.  “A few months ago, I’d given up ever knowing my brother,” he said with hard maintained solemnity, only to have a teasing smile break through when he glanced sideways at Blair.  “And now, I’ve not only got Jim back in my life but, finally, a kid brother to torment, too.  Life doesn’t get a whole lot better than that.”  Lifting his glass toward Blair, he said with a grin, “So I guess I’m most thankful for having you in my life.”

William smiled warmly.  “I have to second that toast, Stevie.  I don’t even want to think about how many years it’s been since we sat around this table together.  A long time.  Too long.  And Blair, if not for you, I doubt we’d be sitting here today.  So I’m also thankful, son, to have you in our lives.”

Blair blushed and bobbed his head.  “Well, thanks,” he replied, very touched.  “But, well, as Mom pointed out, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for every single one of you, who believed in Jim, in us, against all the odds.  Not to mention basic common sense.  Because who would ever bet on –”

“Sandburg,” Jim sighed.  “Get to the point.”

“Oh, right.  Um, well, until I was so rudely interrupted, I was just trying to say that I’m grateful to all of you, for being our family, for loving us,” Blair finished up.  “Really grateful.”

Staring into the glass cupped in his hand, Jim cleared his throat, and then flicked a look around the table, before returning to his fascination with the wine swirling in the deep crystal bowl.  “Naomi’s right.  It was a tough year.  And there were times, well, when I wasn’t sure we were going to get through it intact.  Times when I was very afraid we wouldn’t.”  Taking a breath, letting it out slowly, he went on, “I’ve got so much to be grateful for this year, I honest to God don’t know where to start.  But I guess what it all comes down to is that we made it, all of us.  Together.  And I think we’re finally on the right path.  I’m … I’m very grateful for that.”

Looking up, a small, sweet smile on his face, he lifted his glass.  “To us, all of us.”

“Here!  Here!” Simon cheered, winking at Sandburg, and then they clinked their glasses, toasting one another and chiming in joyous chorus, “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  Happy Thanksgiving!”

Photo Manip by Virginia Sky