Exile (A Revisionist's View of History)
By Mickey M.
© June 1997

From the journals of Dr. Blair Sandburg

May 10, 1997 

I'm on my way now--down to Chile. I've left behind Cascade, Rainier U, Jim...and my heart. I know that will be taken care of, since I gave it into Jim's safekeeping. What I don't know is if I can stand the empty, hollow place inside me where it used to be. 

Jim and Sharon got married May 5; by now they're happily cruising the waterways of Alaska. I stood up beside Jim that day, with a smile pasted on my face and tried to act happy like everyone else. Probably my best obfuscation ever. I don't think anyone suspected anything--except Jim, and he knows the truth. Now I have to keep telling myself it's for the best, it wasn't meant to be, all that bull that only dulls the pain but doesn't make it go away. 

I can't think about it anymore. Can't think about *that* night-- I'll go insane if I do. More later. 

May 23, 1997 

Things have been fairly insane down here, which will explain the lag in entries. We got to Arranjuara, the village closest to our destination, only to find that the supplies and guides that were supposed to be waiting for us never arrived. Took a week to get things straightened out. Man, this is what happens when you let someone else do something you should be doing yourself. Naomi always told me that if you want something done right, do it yourself. Should've listened to mom. 

I've managed to distance myself a little from the whole situation with Jim. Of course, 8000 miles helps some, too. I laid in bed last night, thinking about that night before the wedding--it's become my most precious memory now, since it's all I'll ever have of him. God, just the memory of making love with him is enough to make me hard, and make me ache for him. We fit together so well... Please God, make the pain stop. Make me stop loving him, wanting him... Please. 

August 1, 1997

I've decided to keep two journals: one for professional use, and the other for personal. I was having trouble separating stuff out when it was all in one. I *am* pleased with the way the study seems to be moving--nice that something in life is working out like it should. 

Was I wrong to leave Cascade? Leave Jim? He would have left Sharon for me; I know it. He was ready to. That would have been so wrong though--I don't think I could have lived with myself if I'd encouraged him to do that (or even just *not* discouraged). It's been almost three months since I've seen him. In the years I've known him, that's the longest we've ever been apart. After all--a sentinel needs his guide, right? So what the hell am I doing down here, sitting in the jungles of Chile? God, I miss him. It's like a physical ache that just won't go away. I can't catch my breath--the pain never subsides.

I suspect that even had Jim not gotten married, and I had done this I would miss him terribly--even if I didn't love him the way I do. There's something about him; about he and I together, that completes me.

I need someone to lay down with me at night, and to hold me close. I don't know--prospects are fairly limited right now; we're all too close, and too many of the people on this expedition are students. I can't start a relationship with a student, it's ethically wrong. Of course, how different would that be from falling in love with your research subject? A major no-no there, too.

It's late, and I'm babbling. More later.

August 17, 1997

It's not quite four am, but I'll never go back to sleep now. I had a dream... In my dream Jim was here, leaning over me, stroking my hair, kissing me. I could hear his voice...he said, "It's okay, Chief, I love you, I'll always love you." God, why am I doing this to myself? Is the hold on me that strong? Will I never be able to break free from this? It's not that I don't want to love Jim; rather that it's kind of pointless now--he can never be mine. Guess I'll get up and get something to drink, maybe make some notes in the other journal. An interesting side note here is that one of our guides shows evidence of hyperactive senses. I wonder who *his* guide is?

November 1, 1997

I went to bed last night thinking about Jim, and woke this morning a sticky mess. It's been nearly six months, and all I can think of is how his lips tasted against mine...how his hands felt on me...how he felt moving inside me. How he looked when I told him I was in love with him--and leaving him.

I miss him--more than just the physical stuff. I miss seeing him, talking to him, teasing him. Stupid shit like shooting hoops together, and arguing about air fresheners. Hell, I miss nearly getting myself killed on a regular basis helping him solve his cases. Considering the wreck I was after Lash had me, that says a lot. 

But it goes even deeper than that. I miss *him*. His presence, his ...life force. I always felt safe around him, no matter what was going on around us. Jim is just so ...much... that he surrounds everything he contacts--as though his spirit can't be contained by mere a physicality like a body. I miss the trust I had with him--I've never trusted anyone else like that; never trusted anyone else with my life like I did with him. The first and only time I've ever had unprotected sex was that night with him. 

The second half of our first team gets here in a week. Maybe there will be someone--man or woman, it doesn't matter to me at this point--who can help me at least block the pain. I'll love Jim until the day I die...but I need someone in this lifetime, if only to hold while I pretend... 

December 25, 1997 

Merry Christmas, Jim. Are you thinking about me? *Do* you think about me? There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about you, at least once. I know you said you love me, but the truth is I hope you've forgotten that; that you've made a life of love with Sharon. I know the pain I live with; I don't wish that for anyone. Be happy, be at peace.

I love you, Jim.

**************************************************

February 23, 1998

Today is Jim's birthday. I can't seem to stop the tears that keep welling up in my eyes; I'm writing this in my shelter because of that. I wonder how he's doing...what he's doing. I hope whatever it is, he's happy.

I love you, Jim. Happy Birthday.

March 11, 1998 

I'm writing this by the firelight of the Nua-hania tribe's village. It's my turn to supervise and observe here; I've been here for about a week. The village chieftain is a keen, sharp-eyed old man--he took one look at me, and invited me to stay with him. We spent the evening talking, and praying with the holy man. There's another one who's pretty sharp--he chanted over his smoke for a while, then looked me in the eye and said "You left the panther behind." Well what the hell was I supposed to say to *that*?

Actually, I told them the whole story. Don't ask me what made me open up to strangers like that; I couldn't say. Maybe just the need to tell *someone*, to get it off my chest. These men understand Sentinels...they have one in their village. The Shaman (closest I can get to the translation of his title) told me that I had to go back; without each other the bond between us will degrade. I told him I hoped so, since we both had lives to lead that were separate of each other. No, he said, we're not supposed to be separate of each other--that's the whole idea. Okay, I asked, what do you do when your sentinel takes a different mate then--because I assumed that's what he was talking about. He told me I shouldn't have ever allowed that to happen. Like I could have stopped it? He's certainly crediting me with a lot of power! Anyway, the idea is that sentinels and guides are pre-destined to be mates, regardless of anyone else's wishes in the matter (including the people involved). So why did Jim fall in love with someone else? Or did he? Did he just think he loved Sharon because I couldn't get up the balls to tell him how I felt about him? Man, we're looking at some major soul-searching coming up here.  

I can't go back--it's too late now. It's been nearly a year. I wonder how long it takes that bond to degrade? 

May 6, 1998 

Well yesterday was certainly a lot of fun. It's too bad there's no way to indicate scathing sarcasm in a journal, because I need a symbol for it, for that sentence. Actually, yesterday was a piece of cake compared to the day before; the anniversary of when Jim and I made love. Of course yesterday, among other things, was the anniversary date of our declarations to each other. I would remember these things. 'Okay, Blair...better keep all those useless and painful facts catalogued in your brain in case you need them again some day.' Right. I really, really, really hate life right now--and it shows. I've been snarling at anyone who comes near me for 36 hours now. Dammit! I should have better control than this. It's over. It's *been* over. It really never *was*. So, it's his anniversary today. So what? Right. 

I had a dream last night. We were making love, and it was so perfect... Just like when we did actually make love. The morning of the wedding, not the night before. That wasn't making love--that was fucking. Which was okay too, but serves a different purpose. It was so beautiful... I was on my stomach, and he laid on top of me, moving against me, just rubbing at first. Then he scooted up a tiny bit, and I turned my head, and we kissed while he entered me. God... dammit, I thought I was over crying about this. Oh, man...Jim, I still ache for you so bad, I don't think I can stand it. I don't feel whole anymore...haven't in a long time. Does this mean our bond has degraded, and broken down? Does this mean that I'll feel like this for the rest of my life? Incomplete, unconnected? And more importantly--does he? I hope not. I wouldn't visit this pain on anyone. 

July 4, 1998

New people arriving next week--some of our students are going home. I keep hoping someone will turn up that can fill the empty, aching hole in my chest...but so far no luck. Meanwhile, I'll just bury myself in my work. It's beginning to look like we can extend the study for an additional year or two...grant money must be plentiful for the next several fiscal years. Think I'll volunteer to stay on. Cascade is just too dangerous of a place to return to anytime soon. 

September 1, 1998 

Dr. Randy Gates. Says he's no relation to Bill...I told him too bad. It'd be nice to know someone who could get me free software replacement stuff. 

The damnedest thing about Randy is he reminds me a lot of Jim--god, I wonder how *that* would have happened? (insert sarcasm here). Not so much physically--he's not a lot taller than me, and wears his hair kind of long too. No, it's the personality. He's very much in control, and likes it; very anal about a lot of stuff. He's also got a 'protector instinct', and switches into that mode a lot around me, I've noticed. It's kind of funny--he's actually a year or so younger than me, I think. I'm not used to being the older one...

Okay, okay. He also has eyes that look just like Jim's. Beautiful, clear, sky-blue...could get lost in them forever. I can never love this man--I gave my heart away for good when I gave it to Jim--but I care for him quite a bit already. We're good together, and good for each other. He's getting over a broken heart himself--his fiance left him for another man.

He kisses like a dream too. I'm feeling very weird about all of this right now--feeling unfaithful, I guess. Which is stupid; I told Jim I would find someone eventually, and god know he's not alone--but I can't shake the feeling. I hope it goes away eventually as my brain gets used to the idea of Randy being in my life.

October 15, 1998

Okay, this is too much. Just when I thought I had things under control, and could handle stuff like this *should it ever come up, which I didn't think it would*, I'm proved wrong. WRONG! 

Mail delivery is sketchy out here at best, and what does come in comes in trickles, every so often. Generally months old--if it gets here. What happens is that we head into Arranjuara every few months for supplies, and one of us will go to their postal station (that's what they call it here) to check on mail and such. So we get it every three or four months. 

I got a birthday card from Jim. Shit, shit, shit. It's just a dumb little card, with a frog on the front, and a hallmark verse on the inside. Wishing me a happy birthday. 'Big 3-0, Chief. Hope it treats you better than it did me. Here's hoping this card finds you safe and happy. Take care, I love you, Jim.' 

"I love you, Jim." Deep breath, Sandburg; keep remembering to breathe. Oxygen is important so we don't loose any more brain cells. God, why not just stab the knife into me and twist? That's basically what this card has done. And now I know--the card house has toppled. All my illusions about getting over Jim are just that--illusions.

I think I sat on my camp bed and cried for an hour. It was a quiet day--a lot of the students not out on site were in Arranjuara--time to have a little fun; some of them have been here since the beginning. Randy came in not too long ago, and sat with me for a while, just holding me. I said he's a lot like Jim, right? Well, not that Jim ever did this for me, but Randy just held me, stroked my hair, made quiet little noises. I figure that's how Jim comforts--he was kind of like that in a general kind of way when we were just friends.  

Well, I'm getting tired--it's been a long day, and I need to go to bed. More later.

**************************************************

 January 1, 1999

Well, I finally broke down and told Randy the whole sad story. I mean, it's only fair, right? I knew all about his fiancée, and all that; seemed the least I could do to tell him why I never say 'I love you' to him. And actually, I do...in a way. I care for him more than I thought I'd ever be able to care for anyone else again. He's a good man. We made love for the first time on Christmas day, kind of like our gift to each other. Another thing he has in common with Jim: I'm Randy's first male lover, too. He told me he's had relationships with other men, but it's never gone beyond kissing, petting, that sort of thing. Nothing like full-blown sex. Anyway, it was good, and beautiful...and I cried in his arms afterward. Of course he wanted to know why; felt like it was his fault, which of course it wasn't. That's when I knew I was going to have to tell him everything. I waited for a couple of days, because I don't want those memories associated with being in bed with Randy any more than they already are. He took it pretty well, I think. We're still together, so maybe he understands it's just memories he's dealing with... He says he loves me, and he'll give me new memories. I hope so.

March 3, 1999

Right now I'm in a "I'm angry with Jim" mood. I go through these every so often--it's been a while since the last one. I don't know if that's a good sign, or not. I'm fairly certain this is part of the grieving process; I hope. If so, and it means that this horrible, dead feeling inside of me will go away eventually then I can deal with it. Right now I'm pissed in a major way. Why'd he have to *respond* to me that night? Couldn't he have just pushed me away, or something? Did he have to accept the come on? Come to think of it, why'd he let me up in the loft at all that night? There would have been plenty of time the next morning for me to carry my sorry, hung-over ass over there--why didn't he just tell me "See you in the morning, Chief"? No, he had to assume I was 'coming home' with him...then allow me to make my advances (which I know I wouldn't have done if I hadn't been so drunk--I'd hidden it for too long)...then *react* to those advances... Then he has to fucking go and tell me he loves me on top of it!

So now I'm exiled here in Chile, while I lick my wounds. Life sucks right now.

May 6, 1999

Okay, so I wasn't fair in that last entry. Who cares about fair when you hurt? Poor Randy--he gets the 'Saint of the Year' award, in my book. I know I haven't been an easy man to live with these last couple of months. I don't know why I can't let it go... 

We are living together now, Randy and me. And mood swings aside, life with him is good. He's not Jim, but he's good for me. Good to me. I guess that's what counts, isn't it? 

Yesterday made two years. It seemed a little less painful, so maybe I'm going to survive this after all. I still miss Jim. So badly some days that I feel like I ache all over. I hope this fades as the days, weeks, months, whatever pass. Hopefully, two years from now I'll be like, Jim who? Well, maybe not like that...but not hurting, either.

September 23, 1999

Christ today was bad. My heart is still pounding double-time. Randy got hurt while out gathering plant specimens. Hurt. Hah. What he almost *got*, was eaten by a giant anaconda. He's okay now, although he's still in our infirmary tent. Dr. Balusa wanted to keep him overnight, and watch him--some of his ribs are cracked, and he's got a lot of bruising. God, it's still too real in my brain. He could have died. Just when I'd started to really feel something for him...

I think I'll make a mental note right now, that if this doesn't work out for any reason, I'm never going to fall in love with anyone else again. It's just too painful to let yourself care for someone, then have them snatched away.

December 26, 1999

Wow, last week of the century. That feels totally weird. Randy and I celebrated our one year anniversary together yesterday. Neither one of us are big Christmas people, me 'cause of the Jewish background and him because his folks were just not into that...so, that's cool. We spent the day in bed, making love, and enjoying a little down time. Most of the people not out on site went into Arranjuara for the day so they could get mail (in case anything came for Christmas), and a lot of other reasons I don't remember now. Whatever the reasons, we were pretty much alone, and it was nice. I told him I love him.

Goodbye, Jim. I do still love you...but I have to move on a little bit here. I'll always love you...but I need someone to hold me now. I know you understand.

**************************************************

April 14, 2000

I wonder how long it'll take me to get used to '2000'? I wrote 19-- for so long... 

I've been back to the Nua-hania tribe lately--forgot this journal, which is why there's a four month gap, rather than my usual. The Shaman looked at me and shook his head, which made my heart go like sixty. He asked me if I'd forgotten the panther, and I told him I'd never forget the panther, but I needed to move on. He said that I couldn't do that...I had to return. This old man just doesn't understand, does he? I *can't*. It's certainly not that I don't want to; although if I did now, I'd hurt Randy, and I'm not about to do that. 

Jim is not part of my life any longer. There may come a day when I can go back to Cascade, and be his friend again... Maybe. I don't know--could I ever look at him again, and not remember what we did...what we said we felt for each other? Not likely. If that day ever arrives, I'll embrace it gladly. Until then, it's better for both of us that I stay away.

August 2, 2000

Yesterday was Randy's birthday--he finally hit the big 3-0. Okay, so I'm almost two years older than him. It's not like I'm robbing the cradle or anything. We celebrated by going into Arranjuara and having dinner in their one little cafe. Then I took him up to the room I'd reserved for us in their Inn, and we made love all night long. He left today for some on-site time; his turn to stay with the Nua-hania. I wonder what the Shaman will say to him? (That's a joke...why would he say anything?)

I got a letter last week from Naomi! Don't hear from Mom near as often as I did when I lived in Cascade--maybe because I'm harder to reach here. She said she'd been in Cascade for a few days... I wonder why? Stopped by the precinct, and saw Simon...and saw Jim. I wonder sometimes if she ever knew how I felt about him (feel?), or maybe it's mother's intuition; whatever it is, she told me he looks good, and seems to be doing okay. He was busy when she stopped in and couldn't talk for long, so they made plans to meet for lunch, then he couldn't make them because something came up. I wonder if it really did, or was he having reservations about seeing my mom? Too much connection with me? Boy, this is a can of worms I didn't need to have opened. I thought I'd laid this all to rest, a while ago. Damn. Well, plenty of time to work through all of it--I only have the rest of my life. 

October 16, 2000

Randy came home the other day. Home. Man, I've *definitely* been out here too long. How long have I been here? Jesus, almost two and a half years. I'm really starting to think of this place as home. I wonder if anyone in Cascade would recognize me anymore? I know I'm thinner than I used to be; we have plenty to eat, but it's different food...I've trimmed off some body fat. Muscles a little more defined, because the work out here is more labor intensive, even for us academics. Randy says it makes my butt... Never mind. I've grown a mustache, too. Thought I'd try it out, see how it worked for me. I've had it for a while, but I'll probably shave it eventually. I look too not like me with it. I wonder what Jim would think of me with a mustache? 

Anyway, Randy came home, and it was so good to have him back. I really missed him, even though he was only 20 kilometers away. That seems like a lot, out here in the jungle. He must have missed me pretty bad too, 'cause we didn't get much sleep that night, or the next. Julie Allen, our botanist who lives in the shelter next door, told me the next morning that she couldn't sleep all night long...and next time if we kept her awake like that she was going to join us. Laughed and said that if she had to miss a whole night's sleep, she should have some of the fun too.

I can't believe Randy's been in my life for two years now. Wow...time flies when you're having fun.

December 31, 2000

The end of the first year of a new century. Seems odd, in a few hours it'll be 2001. I can still remember watching that movie with Jim one night, and speculating on what 2001 would really be like. Obviously not too like the movie, which I think they made back in like '68 or '69... So far as I know, the only people living in the space station up there are researchers. No colonies in space yet.

How are you doing, Jim? I still think about you, still miss you; still love you. I love Randy, too...which makes it hard sometimes. I feel divided, like I'm cheating. Which is kind of crazy, since who would I be cheating on, with whom? Just my brain, and the way it works, I suppose.

Randy had a letter from home yesterday--his dad is sick. Not sick as in terminally ill, but not doing very well either. He's thinking about going home for a quick visit and see how things are. I asked him if he ever told his family about me, and he said sort of. What kind of an answer is sort of? Well, his sister knows. I had to laugh... Knows what? That he's gay? That I'm gay? What? No, his sister knows that he's involved with a man...he's not saying either of us are gay. Well, whatever. Guess it's harder when it's your first serious same-sex relationship. Been so long for me now, I can't remember. Well, happy new year, anyway.

**************************************************

February 25, 2001

Coincidence that this all happened when it did? I don't think so. I'm not a big subscriber to the coincidence theory. Things happen the way they do for a reason.

'This' is the beginning of the end. Randy got a telegram! That must have been a first for the post-master in Arranjuara. He drove out here in his little 4x4 jeep with a telegram for Dr. R. Gates, saying only that his father was very ill, and he needed to return home as soon as possible. That was on the 20th. On the 21st, there was another telegram, this one saying that his father had had a combination stroke and heart attack, and was in a coma. He needed to return home ASAP. He left that afternoon, riding back with the post-master. I rode along with them, figuring I could get a ride back to the camp later. Poor baby...while he was waiting for transportation to take him back to 'real' civilization, another telegram came in...his father passed away while still in the coma. The funeral would be held as soon as he arrived. 

I held him while he cried...and cried along with him. I know, even if he doesn't yet, that he's not coming back to me. His ties to his family are too strong. They'll find a way to keep him there. He'd told me in the past that they weren't happy he was on this expedition to begin with--and they were really unhappy last October when he extended his stay. 

By the time I got back to camp, it was Feb. 23rd, which is the second hardest day of every year for me. This year was no different, and now it's marked by losing Randy, too. I'm never going to love anyone again. It's too hard. 

June 7, 2001

I had a letter from Randy today. Jesus, I don't even know what to put in this journal...this hurts almost as bad as when I left Jim back in Cascade. Even expecting it, it's still like fire in my brain. He's not coming back. Ever. I have his address, and his phone number in Seattle...when I get back to the states he wants me to call him. He's sorry, but his family needs him to stay there, and help with things.

God, I'm shaking right now. I don't know if I'm more hurt, or angry. What could he have to take care of that's more important than us? He said he loved me. Held me, touched me, made love to me. Took me into his body, entered mine. What's more important than that bond? I'm feeling very betrayed here. Is this how Jim felt when I left? Oh, man. If that's the case, then I'm in Chile forever, because I fucked up royally. Granted there were different circumstances, but... All I want to do right now is scream at Randy and apologize to Jim. I can't do either, so I'll settle for a good cry here, by myself.

September 18, 2001

Just when things start to get back onto an even keel, someone pulls the rug out from under your feet. I think I must have pissed off someone very important in a past life to be dealing with this much BS in this one. Our grant, and our permits to be here, which we thought ran through 2002, have been cut short. Everyone is supposed to be out of here no later than March 31, 2002. Apparently the grant money fell through for the whole year; we only have funds through that first quarter. Damn. Now I have six months to figure out what I'm going to do with myself. I wasn't going to *worry* about it for another six months. Shit, I hate having things cut short on me like that. Well, it's been over four years...hopefully Jim and I can co-exist in a city the size of Cascade together...preferably without ever seeing each other. Hah, for all I know he's got three kids by now, and is settled happily in suburbia by now. Oh, man. There's something I'd never considered for Jim before. Amazing how the thought of him having kids hurts so much. Well, it's his life. Isn't it?

December 25, 2001

I'm starting to have an allergy to calendars...and to dates. Let's see, dates to avoid at any cost now include Feb. 22 and 23, May 5, August 1 and Christmas. Actually, at this stage in my life it would be counter-productive to *have* anymore relationships...I can't afford any more days when I'm emotionally and mentally wiped out. 

The thing with Randy doesn't hurt as bad. I still miss him, but it's not like with Jim. I don't see myself missing Randy four years from now. We were good together, we loved each other...but we didn't have the bond that Jim and I had. Of course, that doesn't make today any less painful...it's really kind of weird. I'd never have pegged myself as the kind of guy who'd hold dates in his head in commemoration of something. And here I've got, what, five of them? That's pretty weird, if you ask me. 

Well, D-day in three months. I've got so much information on Sentinels in primitive societies and cultures I could almost do a second dissertation. Maybe I just should have come down to South America in the first place, all those years ago. It would have saved me a lot of heartache, in the end.

*************************************************

March 30, 2002

Well, this is like the end of an era. We've all said our goodbyes...man, I've lived with some of these people for nearly five years! Not many, but there are a few of us who stayed here for the whole study. A lot of the camp is gone now...they've been leaving all week in small groups. There's only about a dozen of us left, and we'll leave in the morning. I've been in touch with Rainier University, and have managed to get a part- time teaching position...until something else opens up. That will start with the summer session. By the time I get back state-side, and get settled, the spring semester will nearly be over. Guess I'll manage money-wise until the paychecks start. It's not like I've spent a lot of money out here.

This place holds a lot of memories for me... Not all good, but not all bad. I'm kind of glad to be leaving this shelter; every time I look around I see Randy. It'll be easier to forget about him when I'm not being constantly reminded of him.

What I'm going to do about Jim is a different problem. The whole damn city will remind me of him. I'll have to be very careful not to go wandering into any of our old haunts. Not until I figure out how I'll react to seeing him. Yelling "Forget the wife and kids, take me back," wouldn't be cool, I suppose. Well, I suppose I'll just have to wing it. I don't have much choice, do I?

**************************************************

Blair pulled his collar up closer around his neck and hunched further into it. After nearly five years in the steamy south American jungles; Cascade, Washington in early May was hard to deal with.

He'd been back for nearly six weeks now...and was still getting used to things. Television, for one. He hadn't seen TV in forever, it seemed. Didn't remember so much violence being on, either. Junk food. It seemed to be everywhere, nowadays. And the cost of things! He'd be glad when he actually started teaching...his funds were beginning to dwindle. Rainier had come through with a full-time position for him, starting in the fall. Meanwhile, he'd have to make do on a part-timer's salary, and augment with tutoring. No biggie, he'd done that in the past.

Today wasn't the greatest day...it was Jim's anniversary. As hard as he tried, it was still a rough day for him...rougher now that he didn't even have Randy to help him through it. He'd decided to get out of the apartment and get some air. Maybe a walk and a cup of coffee would help. He sighed and dropped his head a bit. Maybe the wind wouldn't blow right through his eyes if he wasn't looking into it.

He was intent on his thoughts as he hurried down the sidewalk, and didn't notice the other person approaching until that person ran full into him.

He glanced up as he tried to catch his balance. "Hey!"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't--Chief? Oh my God, Blair!"

"Jim!"

They threw their arms around each other, and hugged tightly, joy and disbelief mingling.

Blair pulled back and smiled at the older man. "Oh, man...you're about the last person I expected to run into down here--what's going on?"

"Well, Chief...I was coming to look for you."

Blair raised his head to see the promise shining in Jim's eyes, and knew he'd come home for good this time.

 ~finis~

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