"Everyone get down!" Jim Ellison yelled, racing through the crowded mall. Gun in the air, he hurdled down the escalator. He intended to capture the thieving Santa, even if it meant scaring a few kids. Stealing money from holiday shoppers just wasn't going to be tolerated. "Freeze!" The detective stopped and stood firm, gun pointing at the man in the red Santa suit.
The Christmas thief raised his hands in the air as Cascade Mall security officers swarmed in and cuffed him. Reading him his Miranda rights, the policemen led the bogus jolly old elf away.
"Man!" Blair skidded to a halt, panting. He looked at Jim wide-eyed as he tried to juggle shopping bags full of presents. "I didn't even see that coming."
Jim glanced at him briefly and smiled. "When you decide to donate money to the Salvation Army it's always a good idea to ask for their credentials. Too many charlatans out there wanting to steal money from charitable citizens."
Blair nodded. "I'm glad you asked. I never really thought about it before. I would have parted with ten bucks and not been the wiser."
Jim reached for some of Blair's Christmas packages. "Yeah, Chief. You gotta be careful." He began walking toward the exit and Blair fell in step behind him. "Let's go on home. I'm starved."
Blair chuckled. "Guess saving the good people of Cascade has an effect on your appetite."
"You got it, Teach. So what are you making for dinner?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
Blair leaned back into the corner of the couch and sighed in contentment. After a full day of Christmas shopping--not to mention crime fighting--he was pleasantly tired. It was time to relax and enjoy the movie he and Jim had picked up at the video store. He still couldn't believe the older man had picked up Alistair Sims' version of THE CHRISTMAS CAROL.
"What are you smiling about, Chief?" Jim looked over at his friend. Blair looked warm and inviting--inviting? The older man frowned, shying away from the implications of that simple word.
"Hmm?" Blair looked puzzled. "Am I smiling? Guess I wasn't aware of it." He snuggled deeper into his corner, pulling the throw from the couch over him.
"Well, you gonna let me in on the joke?" Jim asked, watching the shadows cast by the lights on the Christmas tree caress Blair's face.
"Oh, I was just thinking how funny it was that you wanted to rent a Christmas movie. Not to mention it's black and white." Blair shook his head.
Jim leaned back in his chair and smiled. "I still have a few surprises, Chief. Gotta keep you on your toes."
Blair laughed. "You aren't the only one, man. I got a few secrets of my own."
Jim raised in eyebrow. "Oh? What aren't you telling me, Sandburg?"
"Sorry," the younger man replied. "I can't say. If you're good maybe I'll tell you my big secret on Christmas morning." He smiled mischievously. "So don't do anything naughty."
'But what if I want to?' The question slipped into conscious thought before Jim could erect a dam and hold it at bay. He frowned, wondering what was wrong with him. Thoughts like these weren't healthy. Were they?
"Jim?" Blair was standing in front of him, waving hand before his eyes. "Come on, Jim. No zone-outs during the holidays. You promised."
The Sentinel caught the waving hand and held it. "Sorry, Chief. Don't know what came over me." He unconsciously caressed Blair's fingers as he relaxed his grip.
Blair looked at him strangely for a moment. "Whatever you say, Jim." He moved back to his corner on the couch. "Why don't we start the movie, huh?"
The older man nodded absently, thoughts still tuned inward. He made no move to turn the television on.
"Jim?" Blair was frowning now. "I'd like to see this movie before morning, man. Christmas Eve is the perfect time to see it and if we waste anymore time, we're gonna be seeing it on Christmas Day."
Jim mentally shook himself and focused on Blair. "Sorry, Chief." He turned on the television and pushed play on the VCR.
Blair looked at him a moment longer. "It's okay, Jim. Maybe you just need to relax." He snuggled deeper into the couch. "You aren't worried about tomorrow, are you?"
Shaking his head, Jim answered. "No, what's there to be worried about? We're just going over to Stephen's for Christmas dinner."
"I know." Blair said. "It's just that sometimes holidays can be stressful and with your heightened senses, lots of people can make it worse."
"I understand, Sandburg, but it's okay." Jim leaned back into his chair. "They sure don't make movies like this anymore."
Blair glanced at the screen and was surprised to see the movie already in progress. He shook his head and settled in to watch the holiday classic.
Jim glanced at his partner reclining on the couch. As the credits rolled, he watched the sleeping form breathe slowly and evenly. It comforted him and soothed his inner disquiet. So, throughout the pleasant evening, he found himself looking at Blair more than the movie. That was fine by him. Blair- watching was a favorite pastime. And if doing so brought him peace than all the better.
Peace within himself was sorely lacking. For sometime, Jim had been aware of an inner struggle; one he couldn't understand. He just knew how it *felt*. Fear and anxiety; abandonment and loneliness churned inside him whenever his feelings decided his heart was a personal battleground. Emotional battles raged on and Jim was hard-pressed to figure what the stakes were let alone what the prize was. It scared him to think he was losing control over his emotions as he had done with his senses.
So it only seemed right to turn to the one person who had given him back his control--Blair Sandburg. Just looking at him gave the Sentinel a feeling of warmth and contentment. It settled over him like a much loved blanket.
He smiled, watching the Christmas tree lights accented by the flickering flames of the lighted Menorah candles dance across Blair's face. His ethereal beauty brought a lump to Jim's throat. Jim sat there, admiring the man he had called partner for almost three years.
Shock moved Jim to his feet as if an electric cattle prod had branded him. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open in surprise; the only thought going through Jim's mind was, 'My partner's beautiful? Ethereal? What the hell is wrong with me? Shit, I need to get a life.'
He rubbed at his eyes a moment, hoping to clear the image of Blair lying there in gentle repose. Blinking, he knew it was useless. Blair was still lying there and he still looked beautiful. 'Dammit.' Jim rose to his feet. 'I'm not going there. He's my best friend and I don't want anything to change that.'
With his silent declaration, he leaned over Blair. Shaking his shoulder, Jim whispered. "Come on, Chief. Time for bed."
Blair mumbled something and snuggled deeper into the corner of the couch.
"Sandburg, you'll be more comfortable in your own bed." Jim spoke quietly, refusing to think of the bed upstairs which was far bigger. "Wake up." He eased Blair into a sitting position and watched as the curly head lolled back against the back cushion.
With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Jim bent and gently pulled Blair into his arms. The older man stood for a minute, simply holding Blair. With another sigh, he carried his friend to bed. After making sure Blair was covered with enough blankets to keep him warm, Jim went upstairs.
Minutes later, lying in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling, Jim waited for sleep. He was very tired, but his body wouldn't give in and give him his much needed rest. Tomorrow would either be an emotionally charged day or a physical one. The detective had volunteered to work Christmas Day, but Simon had uncharacteristically refused his request saying Jim now had family with which to spend the holidays. The captain had allowed a compromise though and Jim was going to be on call. He definitely needed sleep...badly.
He turned on his side and punched his pillow viciously. Once it was shaped to his liking, he settled and closed his eyes. Sighing deeply, he concentrated on his breathing like his Guide had taught him and was soon breathing deeply and evenly.
The Sentinel had barely entered a light sleep when he heard the voice. Instantly alert, Jim sat bolt upright and grabbed his gun and pointed it into the darkness. A darkness, it seemed, not even Sentinel senses could penetrate. "Who's there?" He asked harshly. "Identify yourself."
"You know me, Slick." The words sent a chill down Jim's spine and for the first time in his career as a cop his gun wavered.
"What the hell..." Jim trailed off. He recognized the voice, knew the nickname. It just couldn't be. "If this is some kind of sick joke--"
"No joke." An image began to form. "It's me, Slick. The one and only Jack Pendergrast." Jim's former partner now stood looking down at the detective.
Jim stared back, not quite believing. He could still see part of his dresser and the closet door through Jack's body. Blinking to dispel the image, he wasn't surprised when it was still there. "Dammit," he muttered. "I knew I shouldn't have eaten Sandburg's spicy Mexican food for dinner."
"Still doubting what your senses are telling you, Slick." Not-Jack broke into his monologue.
Jim looked startled. Those were the one thing he was supposed to trust, thanks to Sandburg. Still, the situation warranted closer inspection. Putting down his gun, he eyed his former partner. "You're dead." He looked away briefly. "Because of me. Is that what this is? My mistake coming back to haunt me?"
Jack just smiled. "Actually, Slick, you only have part of it right."
"Huh?" Jim's eyes narrowed. "Which part?"
Jack raised an eyebrow. "The part about the mistake. Look, it wasn't your fault I was killed. Let's get that settled right now. I was a cop. I knew the risks. I should have called for backup before I got there. I should have kept trying to get a hold of you. I should have waited. I did none of those things." Jack paused for a minute. "I didn't think what the consequences of my actions were going to be. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, but the great Jack Pendergrast just never realized that until now. 'Course, it's too late now. I can't change anything."
Jim stared at Jack. Despite his incredulity, he found himself fascinated and not a little in awe. He was talking with Jack, his dead partner. "I'm not exactly sure of why you're here if it's not to blame me for your death."
Jack placed his hands on his hips. "I'm here, Slick, to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life. Like I said, there's no hope for me. But you, there's still time. You just have to get it together."
"I don't understand." Jim's voice was full of confusion. "What mistake?"
"Downstairs," Jack replied. "You have a friend and partner who has given most of his time--most of his life--to you. And what does he get in return? Nothing, Slick, nothing at all. You're blocking him out, holding him off. If you aren't careful, you'll lose him."
Jim's face lost all color. "W-what do you mean? Lose him? He said he would stay. 'It's about friendship,' he said. There's nothing wrong here. Everything's okay between us." His voice held a desperate quality, but he didn't care.
Jack shook his head. "You have a heightened sense of sight, Ellison, but you can't see what is right in front of you. So, we're going to help you out."
Jim frowned. "We? Just what the hell is going to happen?"
"You'll be visited by three spirits--The ghost of Christmas Past, the ghost of Christmas Present, and the ghost of Christmas Future. One every hour on the hour starting at one. They will show you the true meaning of Christmas--love." Not-Jack stepped back and began to fade. "Be ready, Slick."
"No!" Jim burst out and jumped from his bed as the spectre disappeared all together. "Shit," he muttered. "Was I just talking to a fucking ghost? I'm going nuts here." Settling back down in his bed, he continued. "Calm down, Ellison. It's stress. Yeah, that's it. Stress." Glancing at his bedside clock, he noticed it was a few minutes passed midnight. 'If this is for real, the next one ought to be here in forty-five minutes.' Still frowning, unsure of what to believe anymore, Jim Ellison closed his eyes and went to sleep.
The roar of a motorcycle filled his ears. Jim's eyes flashed open and he growled in annoyance. He looked at his clock. One a.m. 'Who the hell is driving that motorcycle at this time of night?' Jim asked himself. It sounded as if someone were purposefully revving the engine right outside his window. Eyes flashing in anger, he rose and moved to the window to look out. Seeing nothing, but still hearing the cycle, he frowned.
Jim turned from the window and came face to face with Danny Chou. With a startled yelp, he sprang backward. The Sentinel had not felt any presence behind him and he didn't know what scared him more--Danny standing in front of him, or actually being startled for the first time in years.
"Hey, Jim." The voice was quiet, the smile on the face sad. "It's been a long time, man. I've missed you."
The detective's eyes misted over as he looked at the young man he had considered a brother. Danny wore the black leather outfit he'd been wearing when he died. His eyes still held mischief and curiosity. The black hair was spiked as it had been in life and just a little messy. Jim guessed it was because of the helmet he had tucked under his arm. "I've missed you, too, Danny."
Danny gave him a serious look. "Jim? Do you know why I'm here?"
Jim nodded. "Jack gave me some idea."
"Okay, then, let's go." Danny straddled a motorcycle which appeared out of nowhere. "Hop on. We're going for a little ride."
Jim looked suspicious. "Where are we going?"
Danny sighed exasperated. "Still the pessimist. Come on, man. We're going on a little trip. A trip to the past." The ghost padded the seat behind him again.
Still frowning, the Sentinel swung up behind the driver as Danny secured his helmet on his head.
"Ready?" Danny asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Jim muttered.
"Here we go then." With a mighty roar, the motorcycle surged forward straight for the windows of Jim's loft.
The detective stared in horrified fascination as the panes of glass loomed up ahead. He closed his eyes, trying to prepare for the cutting pain. When he felt none, Jim opened his eyes.
Looking around in surprise, he noticed they were driving through a residential area covered in snow. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he realized where he was. They pulled up in front of a two-story red brick house, confirming what Jim already knew.
"Man, this is the house where Stephen and I grew up." Jim got off the cycle and followed Danny not up the front steps, but toward the back of the house. "Some of the best times of my life happened here." He continued wistfully.
Danny nodded as they stepped into the backyard. "I know. You lived here up until your mother left."
Jim nodded. "So what are we doing here?"
"Just wait," Danny answered.
Jim opened his mouth to say something when the backdoor snapped open with a bang and two young boys flew out of the house. They were wrapped in jackets, mufflers, and hats to keep out the cold. But despite all the layers, Jim could still see two pairs of bright blue eyes brimming with excitement.
Whooping and yelling, the two boys ran around the yard, making tracks in the snow. "It's Christmas Eve. It's Christmas Eve." They chanted. "One more day 'til Christmas. One more day 'til Christmas."
With wonder, Jim recognized himself at nine years old; Stephen at seven.
Breathing heavily, the two stopped and looked at each other before bursting into laughter.
"Dontcha just love Christmas, Jim?" Little Stephen asked, his mitten-covered hands waving in the air.
"'Course I do, buddy. We get lots of presents."
"You think I'm gonna get a bike this year?" Little Stephen asked his big brother.
Little Jim cocked his head in consideration, trying to act like the adult he wasn't. "I'm not sure, Stephen. Guess you'll have to wait until morning, huh?"
Little Stephen nodded. "I guess so."
Both seem to be thinking about tomorrow and about the presents waiting under the tree for them.
It was Little Jim who broke the silence with the challenge. "I bet I can make a better snow angel than you."
Little Stephen's eyes widened. "Uh-uh. I been practicing. Mine are better."
"Prove it," Little Jim said softly challenged.
"You're on." Little Stephen replied.
In a sudden movement, they threw themselves down on the ground and began to wave their arms and legs back and forth.
Danny turned to his companion. "You guys were even competing then."
Jim nodded, not taking his eyes from the scene in front of him. "Yeah, but it was different. It was fun."
Danny didn't respond and Jim's attention shifted to the backdoor again as his father came out onto the porch.
"Jimmy! Stevie!" The deep voice boomed and rolled over the two snow covered boys as they got up from the ground. "Come on inside. Your momma's made some hot cocoa and chocolate chip cookies. Time for a snack."
The Jim of the present groaned. "She made the best chocolate cookies, Danny. They were delicious. The chocolate chunks would just melt in your mouth..." He looked wistful as he watched the two boys head for the back porch.
"Hey, boys." Mr. Ellison patted his sons' heads as they passed. "After we've eaten, we can come out and build a snowman. Would you like that?"
"Oh, daddy, really?" Stephen began jumping up and down in excitement.
"Of course, really." The old man smiled down at his younger son before turning to the other. "What about you, Jimmy? You up for it?"
"Am I ever." Little Jim said excitedly.
"Good, let's go on in then."
The three Ellisons went into the house.
Danny turned to Jim. "Let's go, man. We're running out of time."
Jim's eyes hadn't moved from the door. "You know, it was one of the best Christmases I ever had that year. Mom and dad were still together. The fights they had were still small. We all got along great. I really missed that." There were tears in his eyes.
Danny laid a reassuring hand on Jim's arm. "It's time to move on. Let's go."
Ellison didn't protest as Danny led him back to the bike. He glanced once more at the one and only house which had been a home to him when he was a child. He stayed focused on it until it disappeared from view, not even bothering to ask Danny where they were going next.
When they pulled up to an old apartment building, Jim felt a sharp pain shoot right through his heart. "God," he choked. "Why'd you bring me here? I never wanted to see this place again."
Danny looked at his companion. "I'm sorry, Jim. I had to bring you here. Come on."
Preparing himself for what he knew he would find, Jim followed the ghost of his friend to a second story apartment. Entering, they stood by the empty fireplace. It was quiet and only a single light in the living room burned.
Jim glanced at Danny, wondering what was going to happen yet dreading it at the same time. Before the question forming on his lips could be spoken, a young boy shuffled into the living room and sat on the sofa.
The dejected figure drew his legs under him and began fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket.
The Jim of the present breathed. "Stephen," just as his own young counterpart appeared.
"Stephen," Little Jimmy said. "Get your feet off the couch. You know dad hates that."
"I don't care," Little Stephen pouted. "Why do we need those stupid house rules, anyway? We never had 'em when mom was with us."
"Well, mom's gone," Little Jimmy replied more harshly than he intended. "So unless you wanna get dad all mad at you, get your feet off the couch." He moved to sit next to his ten year-old brother.
Little Stephen dropped his feet to the floor still pouting. After a long stretch of silence, he spoke in a small voice. "You think daddy will let us get a Christmas tree this year?"
Little Jimmy looked at his brother. Seeing the hopeful yet sad look on Stephen's face, he wrapped an arm around the younger boy. "I don't know. Maybe if we ask him at the right time, he'll let us get one."
"We didn't get one last year. And I really want one. It's Christmas Eve and all my friends all have their trees." Stephen looked pleadingly at his big brother.
With a sigh, Jimmy spoke. "You want *me* to ask him, don't you? Fine, buddy, I'll do it." Stephen's eyes shone with hope at his brother's words as Jim continued. "Now, come on, we gotta fix dinner. He'll be home soon."
The two young boys spent the next half an hour in the kitchen making their father his favorite meal, beef stew. They were dancing around the kitchen, singing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs when their father walked in.
"What the hell is going on here?" The tall imposing figure boomed.
There was an instant silence as both boys froze. They gazed at each other, knowing that some invisible line had just been crossed.
Jimmy thought about what to say next. His little brother had been a little sad at not spending Christmas like his friends were and to cheer him up, Jimmy had started singing Christmas carols. They hadn't realized how much fun they were having until their father had walked in. He spoke, "Sorry, dad. My fault. I didn't mean to cause so much noise."
His father harumphed. "See that it doesn't happen again. There's enough caterwauling happening around the city. You don't need to be adding to the noise." He stomped over to the table and sat down.
The two young boys glanced at each other. "Yes, sir," Jimmy replied.
"Stephen," Mr. Ellison looked at his younger son. "Get me a beer. It's been a long day and I'm tired."
"Uh, okay, dad." Stephen went to the fridge and grabbed the desired beverage. He looked from Jimmy to his dad to Jimmy again.
Jimmy saw the pleading look and he sighed. 'Why do *I* have to this?' He thought. 'He's the one who wants the tree.' He chewed at his lower lip. 'Ah, man, but I want one too.'
"Jimmy?" His father called to him. "What's wrong with you, boy? Get moving. I'd like to eat and so would your brother."
The older boy grimaced. It was his turn to dish up dinner. "Sorry, dad." He served his father first and then his brother. Sitting down himself, he took a sip of his water before dipping into the hot stew.
"Dad?" Jimmy asked, getting the man's attention. "Can I ask you something?"
Mr. Ellison looked at his son. "Go ahead, Jimmy. What's on your mind?"
Jimmy cast a glance at Stephen before continuing. "Can we get a Christmas tree?"
The older man frowned. "No," he said simply.
"Why not? We used to get a tree all the time." Jimmy pressed.
Stephen looked at him wide eyed. Questioning their dad was a big no-no.
Mr. Ellison's eyes narrowed. "Jimmy, I said no and that's good enough. You don't need a reason."
"It's not fair. Everyone else has a tree." The older boy was quite aware that he'd crossed the line. But as he thought about it, he really wanted a Christmas tree. His brother wasn't the only one who saw his friends having a happy holiday. He wanted it just as much.
"Jimmy," Mr. Ellison's voice was low and had a slight edge. "I think you've had enough supper. Go to your room."
Jimmy jumped up from the table. "No, dad. Why can't we have a Christmas like everyone else? We used to have them...before mom left, we used to have great Christmases."
Mr. Ellison also rose from the table, leaving his younger son looking on in horrified fascination. "Jimmy, I won't have you back talking me. Do you understand?"
"Come on, dad. It's just a tree. We can get a really small one." Jimmy pleaded with his father.
"That's enough!" Mr. Ellison's voice was quiet. He gestured at Stephen. "Why can't you be more like your brother? He's not throwing a tantrum over Christmas. Maybe I should take him to the circus day after tomorrow instead of you."
Little Jim's face fell. "Y-you have tickets to the circus?"
"Yes, Jimmy, I have two tickets to the circus." Mr. Ellison walked around the table to his older son. "Now I want you to go to your room and think about all that has been said tonight. Think about what a great little brother you have and think about what a great time he'll be having at the circus while you're here at home."
"Dad." Jimmy protested. "That's not fair."
"Nothing's fair, Jimmy." His father replied. "Get used to it. Now go on to your room. I'd like to finish my cold supper."
Little Jimmy looked at his brother who blinked back at him. Lowering his head dejectedly, he went into his room.
Jim Ellison turned to his long dead friend. "I didn't need to see that again, Danny. I remember it all too well."
Danny nodded and asked. "Why didn't he buy three tickets to the circus?" Jim snorted. "We never did things together as a family after my mom left. It became a game of one-upmanship between Stephen and I. The winner got to go with dad." Jim sighed. "I got so tired of it, Danny, I had to get out or go crazy."
"So you joined the army when you were old enough." Danny said knowingly.
"Yeah," Jim watched his father and brother eat, not needing Sentinel senses to hear the sobs coming from his former room. "Can we go now? I couldn't stand this place when I was younger and I hate it now."
Danny nodded. "Yeah, it's time to go. We have a few more stops to make."
"Fine," Jim said. "Let's get the hell out of here." He followed his ghostly guide back to the motorcycle.
Minutes later, Jim was surprised when they pulled up in front of the Cascade Police Department. "What are we doing here?"
"Follow me, Jim." Danny led the way up to Major Crimes.
Stepping through the doors the first thing Jim saw was himself. Looking amused, he noted the goatee and earring which had characterized his earlier appearance were gone. He still wore those awful flannel shirts with the sleeves cut off, though. It would take Carolyn to break him of that.
The woman on his mind walked through the door, carrying a brightly wrapped Christmas package. "Hey, Jim." She called. "Santa brought you something."
The Jim of the past rose from his desk and walked toward her smiling. "Hi Carolyn. Merry Christmas." He bent down and kissed her tenderly, ignoring the whistles from fellow officers.
Carolyn returned his smile and handed him the package. "I hope you like it," she said.
"I'm sure I will." Jim pulled out an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. "This gift--" he hesitated, not quite knowing how to say this. "Leads to a more important one."
Curiously, she took the offered envelope.
"Open it," Jim encouraged, his own gift forgotten.
Carolyn looked at him for a long moment before doing as she was told. She dumped the contents of the envelope into her hand. With a gasp of delighted surprise, she asked, "I-Is this what I think it means?"
Jim nodded. "Yeah," he answered, his voice suddenly tight. He indicated the gold key lying in her open palm. "Will you move in with me?"
Her smile radiating happiness, Carolyn threw her arms around him and kissed him hungrily. Neither cared that they were standing in the middle of a police station.
"That was a good Christmas." Present Jim said to his helmeted companion. "It was our first together. That night I made dinner and we ate by candlelight. Later, we made love all night long. It was a special Christmas."
Danny looked closely at him. "Why do I sense you aren't telling me everything?"
Jim was quiet for a minute. "Maybe because I'm not," he confessed softly. "I've never told anyone, but there was something missing even then. It's like I wasn't giving of myself enough. There was always something I held back. I-I don't really know what I was thinking."
"Maybe you were thinking it could work out." Danny suggested.
Jim just shrugged. "Who knows?"
Danny looked at him a moment. Finally, he moved toward the elevator. "Time to go, Jim. We have one more stop."
The Sentinel followed the other man and soon they were speeding through Cascade. Pulling up to the loft, Danny killed the engine. "You ready for this?"
"I'm not quite sure," Jim said honestly.
"I know what you mean," Danny said.
"Let's get it over with." Jim wearily shook his head.
The two men were now standing in loft. It was completely dark except for the fireplace crackling merrily. 'But there was nothing merry about this Christmas,' Jim thought as he gazed at himself slumped on the sofa. He held a shot of whiskey in one hand and a picture of Sandburg in the other. Both eyes were red and weepy. He looked pathetic.
This was last Christmas. The Christmas Blair had gone to spend with Naomi.
Present day Jim moved closer and sat next to himself on the couch. It was unnerving to be staring at himself.
His counterpart of the past stared at the picture. "Why did you have to leave me, Sandburg? Why? Friends don't desert one another at Christmas. But, you left. What did I do?"
Present day Jim's eyes narrowed. "You are a fool," he told himself, but the other did not hear. "He asked you if you wanted him to stay. You're the one that told him he had no family to worry about. That there was nothing keeping him in Cascade."
The Ellison of the past tossed back the whiskey. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he made no move to wipe them away.
Jim rose from the couch and turned to Danny. "I don't know what the hell this is, but I'm getting tired of this game." Jim's own throat tightened as his counterpart's tears eerily filled his ears.
"It's no game, Jim," Danny said softly. "Do you really want this Christmas to be like last Christmas?"
Jim laughed harshly. "Some spirit you are! Sandburg's not going anywhere this holiday. He's staying right here."
Danny shook his head. "That's this Christmas, Jim. What about the next one or the one after that? It won't last unless you do something about it."
Jim's eyes turned cold. "Look, just take me back. I want this nightmare gone. This trip down memory lane ends here. Do you understand me?!" He shouted.
Danny bowed his head in resignation. "Only too well, Jim." He placed a hand on the Sentinel's tense shoulder and suddenly they were standing in Jim's bedroom.
The detective looked suspicious. "I'm not gonna see anymore crap, am I?"
"No, Jim." Danny shook his head. "You're home. Back in your own time line."
"Whatever the hell that means?" Jim muttered as he got back into bed. "Whatever you are, just go away and leave me alone." He punched the pillow much as he had done earlier in the evening. "I swear I'm gonna have to start watching what I eat before bed."
"Jim?" Danny called, catching the detective's reluctant attention. "One more thing..."
The man in the bed rolled his eyes. "What is it now?"
"The next spirit will be here at two. Be ready." Danny replied as he began to fade.
"Let's hope not," Jim said sarcastically. "I'm tired of this bullshit."
He threw an arm across his eyes and waited for sleep to claim him.
The glow-in-the-dark numbers on his bedside clock rolled over to 2:00 a.m. and Jim felt his stomach tightening up in dreaded anticipation. The first spirit, spectre, whatever, had promised two, and now it was.
The small hairs on the back of his neck stood up suddenly as his hyper-tactile senses picked up a change in the ambient temperature in the loft. His nose prickled then as the smell of smoke wafted through the loft. Cigar smoke. Simon's cigars.
"You're in a hell of spot, aren't you, Ellison?"
Jim blinked. Just like that, a ghostly image of his captain appeared next to his bed, waving one of those god-forsaken Cubans practically under his nose.
"What spot?" he snapped, tired of this game already. Whatever lesson he was supposed to be learning he wanted to learn and be done with. It had hurt like hell to revisit his past--see all his mistakes, all his failures. To see all that had been and never could be again.
"You don't quite believe in all of this, do you?" The Not-Simon waved the cigar around, gesturing largely. "You don't want to believe that you're seeing me here...have seen Danny...don't want to believe that this is happening to you."
Ellison clenched his fists around the sheets of his bed. "Well, to tell you the truth, Sir, it's a little over the top."
"Over the top." His spirit sat down on the bed next to him, and Jim was a bit disconcerted to realize that he couldn't detect any trace of *Simon* aside from the cigar smoke. No heartbeat, no respiration, nothing that indicated his captain was sitting here next to him. "Jim, let me tell you about something that's over the top." The large man stared at Ellison, his eyes warm and understanding in the dim light of the loft. "Over the top is how completely clueless you are. That what you need to make your life--your heart--complete is right here, practically in the palm of your hand...and you're on the verge of throwing it away."
"Sir?" Ellison goggled at him.
Not-Simon sighed. "This is going to be like pulling teeth, isn't it?" He stood up. "Come on, then."
Jim gazed warily at the hand that was extended to him. "With all due respect, Captain, I'm just wondering how all this is going to go down? I'm not like Ebeneezer Scrooge, y'know. I have friends...family...I give to charities...I played Santa at the holiday party this year, for Chrissake!"
"Uh-huh. Jim," the large man crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him, "you're missing the point here. You do all that, but you're still denying yourself the one thing you need the most: love. You're running the risk of living and dying alone...bleak, unloved, unwanted. And taking with you the heart of someone who feels the same as you, if you'd only admit it."
Jim's surprise must have shown on his face because the spirit of Christmas present gave a harsh bark of laughter. "You're not that clueless, are you, Ellison? Please say not." Jim shook his head in silent answer and the spirit sighed. "Okay, then. We've got some places to go, people to see." He moved toward the stairs.
"Uh, Simon...?" Jim got out of bed, moving toward the larger man. "Where *are* we going?"
"Oh, here and there." Not-Simon reached his hand back for Jim, and the detective grasped it carefully. The world twinkled around him, then blackness closed over him.
The darkness gave way to a multitude of brilliant, swirling lights that coalesced into a bright sunny day. The air was chill, but he wasn't cold. A slight breeze ruffled the evergreen bushes scattered around the lawn of the apartment building they were standing in front of, staring up at.
"Where are we?" Jim squinted at the building, trying to remember if he recognized it.
"This is where Stephen lives, Jim." Not-Simon shook his head. "You've been invited, you know."
"I haven't had the time, Sir. *You*, " Jim glowered at his Captain, "keep me busy with a shitload of work."
"Not that busy, Ellison," the spirit growled. "Come on."
In a flash they were standing inside the well-appointed apartment. Jim looked around in surprise, his eyes wide at the abundance of decorations. He sniffed and the exquisite odor of roasting turkey filled his nose.
"Since when does Stephen get into Christmas like this?"
"Since he met Lynne last summer. Christ, Ellison, are you that out of touch with your brother's life?" The spirit glared at him again, jaws clenched around the cigar.
"No--I knew about Lynne. I've met her. Nice girl. I just didn't realize that she...that he--" Jim broke off, unsure of what he was trying to articulate. "When did she move in with him?"
"About three weeks ago. Just in time to decorate for Christmas."
Jim pondered that. His brother, to his knowledge, had disliked Christmas for the same reasons he had. Mom was gone, Dad was absent with business...the two boys had quickly learned that the best reason to like the holiday was the two weeks off from school. 'Never mind the other reasons...'
"Okay, Captain. Stephen wasn't even as ambivalent about the holiday as I am. What's up with this?" Jim gestured around him.
"It's amazing the changes that love can bring." Not-Simon puffed his cigar, watching the occupants of the apartment moving around them.
"Stevie--did you say your brother's coming over today?" The woman's voice was low and musical and Jim smiled. 'Stevie? How's she get away with that?'
"Yeah, he oughta be here about two. I told him dinner at three and I wanted to have drinks beforehand."
"Is he bringing his partner?"
"Who, Sandburg?" Stephen's voice grew louder and soon the younger Ellison was standing in living room, oblivious to the two larger men standing near the door.
"Who else?" Lynne's head poked around corner from the kitchen.
"Whatdaya mean, who else?" Stephen bent down to light a fire.
"Well who else would he bring to Christmas dinner? I mean, they're together, right?"
Jim watched Stephen's face grow red, and his breath come in harsh pants. He wasn't sure who was shocked more--his brother, or himself. To his utter astonishment, Stephen was laughing. Hard.
"Together?" he was practically gasping for breath now. "My brother? God, Lynnie, that's funny..." the younger man doubled over, laughing.
"What's so funny?" Lynne appeared in the doorway. "Stephen!"
"Well, gender aside, the thought of my brother giving his heart to anyone is absolutely hysterical."
'But you did,' Jim found himself saying silently. 'You always swore you'd never fall in love, because you didn't want to end up like Father.'
"Why's that so funny, Stevie?" Lynne wiped her hands on the dishtowel she held. "C'mon, sweetie--you said he was married before. Why's now different?"
Stephen wiped his eyes with his fingers then turned to face his girlfriend. "I never met Jim's ex-wife, Lynne...but the marriage didn't even last two years. Something wasn't right, there. And I know how bad Mom's leaving broke Jimmy up inside. I know how bad it broke me up. I always swore I'd never fall in love," here the younger man shot Lynne a rueful smile, "and even though Jimmy never said as much, I always kind of figured he meant the same."
"That's beyond sad," Lynne said, her eyes tearing a little. She shook her head. "I still think he's in love with Blair...I know Blair's in love with him."
Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Mind telling me how you know that?"
She shrugged. "You just have to be able to read the signs, honey, and women are more adept at that than men are." When Stephen didn't change his position or facial expression she sighed. "God, all right. Watch them today--they're hardly out of each other's personal space...they touch *constantly*...finish each other's sentences. Do you remember the Labor Day picnic we went to with them?"
"Uh-huh," Stephen muttered, his eyes still watching Lynne in fascination.
"They shared the same bottle of water, Stephen. I mean, drinking, then passing it to the other. They even shared several things off their plates...never even asked the other. That's stuff you and I do. That's stuff other couples in love do. Not two people who are just friends or roommates."
"And the fact that they're both men?"
"Doesn't mean a damn thing, love." Lynne kissed Stephen's cheek and went back into the kitchen.
Jim listened to their continuing banter with only half his hearing and brain engaged. He was flashing on all the different moments with Sandburg: things they'd done, things they'd shared. Casual touches, playful verbal teasing, personal space invasion. All the different highs and lows they'd weathered together. Images of Blair leaving last Christmas to keep it with Naomi wrenched at his gut. 'He'd never have left if I'd made him feel welcome to stay.' Jim turned to Not-Simon.
"I think I've seen and heard enough."
"Here maybe. We have another stop." The large spirit grabbed Jim's hand and they twinkled out of the Ellison apartment.
This time when the swirling lights reformed, Jim found himself standing inside his own home. It wasn't night though; the sun was far too bright outside. Sitting at the kitchen table, looking as beautiful as anything Jim had ever seen, was his partner. Blair had his hair loose about his shoulders and his glasses on. He was sipping a cup of coffee, scrolling through something on the laptop set up in front of him. Soft, worn jeans and a festive red and green plaid flannel shirt rounded out the traditional grunge that Sandburg favored.
Ellison caught himself smiling as he looked at his friend, wondering what Blair was thinking that was causing such deep grooves in the smooth skin of his forehead. 'I'd like to go over there and kiss those lines away,' he thought with some amazement, catching himself just as started to step forward to do so.
The Blair of Christmas present continued to scroll on his computer, oblivious to the two men standing behind him. He seemed to be searching for something, reading as quickly as he could, before smothering a curse and moving on.
"What's he looking for?" Jim found the question pulled from his mouth before he could stop it.
"I don't know what he's looking *for*," his spirit guide answered, "but he's looking *through* his journals."
Soft background music played as Blair continued to scroll, pausing occasionally to read an entry; those often brought small, sad smiles to the mouth that should only be able to express happiness.
You'll
be doing all right with your Christmas of white
but I'll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas...
Elvis Presley. One of the saddest Christmas songs ever sung. Jim shuddered. Did Blair really think he'd leave him alone on Christmas? Yet here he was, alone. No "Jim of Christmas present" roaming around anywhere. The phone rang then, startling the Sentinel, who reached automatically for it.
Sandburg answered with a listless, "Yeah?" then his face brightened a little. "Naomi! God, I'm glad you were able to call today. You like Athens, huh? I figured you would." There was silence for a while, as Naomi presumably talked to her son, then the younger man was getting a word in finally.
"No, we're going to Stephen's--yeah, his brother. I told you about him. We're going to Stephen's for dinner. Huh? About two, I guess." Another long pause and the present day Blair looked up and stared straight into Jim's eyes. "No, he had to work this morning. He volunteered. I don't know, Naomi! Why don't you call the precinct and ask him?"
More silence, Not-Blair holding Jim's gaze, even though Jim wasn't really there. There was a light in the smoky-blue eyes that seemed almost...tender...when Jim grew brave enough to look there for any length of time. 'I'm seeing my feelings reflected back at me,' he thought frantically. 'I can't do this. I give this up and let him in, anything that happens to him will kill me. I can't handle losing any more people important to me.'
"Well, admitting your fears is a step in the right direction," the spirit-Simon said, his cigar glowing oddly in the light.
"What, you read minds too?" Jim couldn't stop the bitter quality to his voice.
The spirit-Simon smiled. "Your thoughts are laid open on your face, Jim. Anyone looking at you right now would know what you're feeling."
Blair was whispering into the phone now, his voice rough and ragged. "I can't tell him, mom. He doesn't feel that way about me." A sharp bark of laughter that made Jim wince to hear it. "I just *know*, Naomi. Leave it alone, okay? No! Look, mom." The older man heard the knife-edge to the much-loved voice and was swept with a sudden urge to pull him into his arms and kiss him senseless. There was pain, longing, loving and a hint of bitterness in that knife-edge.
"He's
a good friend. Hell, he's my best friend. I know he cares about me, but it's
not the same...and I'm not going to risk trashing the best friendship I've ever
had to tell him I'm in love with him when I know he doesn't feel the
same." A long pause filled the air and Jim's body felt as tense as the
figure he was watching appeared. "Yeah, well, I'll wait until I've run out
of hope...then we'll see. Yeah, mom. No, that's okay. Yeah, me too. I love you,
Mom.
Merry Christmas."
The phone conversation was ended and Blair went back to his laptop. He sat down and raised his coffee cup in silent salute, then murmured, "Merry Christmas, Jim. I love you."
Jim turned to the silent spirit beside him. "How long?" he asked, quiet pleading in his voice. "How long before he gives up hope?"
Not-Simon studied him intently for a moment. "The visions of future Christmases aren't in my ability to see," he began, voice husky. "However, I see sitting here next year, a young man who is more bitter and sad, less hopeful."
The Blair of this vision faded, leaving Jim and Not-Simon standing alone in the rapidly darkening loft. Jim sank onto the couch, his knees finally giving out on him. He looked up at the spirit and was shocked to see the spectre of his friend fading before him.
"Simon?" He reached a hand out, touched nothing.
"It's time for me to go. The future is nearly upon you, Ellison. Don't fuck it up," the large man growled softly. "Don't."
Then he was gone.
How long he sat there, Jim never would know. He leaned his head back, trying to concentrate his breathing, calm himself down.
His first hint that the evening wasn't quite over was the odd chill that tripped up and down his spine, raising gooseflesh across his body. A strange, acrid odor burned his nostrils; it was the scent of fear...of death. Was this what the future held for him? Fear and death? He could go the rest of his life without knowing that, thank you very much anyway.
A low growl filled the air and Jim raised his eyes to behold the oddest vision yet for the evening. Standing before him was Naomi Sandburg...but not Naomi. Her skin and features shifted back and forth continually, from human to large, black cat. Only the eyes remained consistent--deep, rich, piercing blue. The same eyes that stared back at him over breakfast every morning; across a desk and workstation every day; through fear and pain and happiness. Blair's eyes.
Ellison cleared his throat and the...spirit...shifted again, growling, becoming more human shaped.
"Are you...are you the last one?" he asked, finding his voice at last.
"I am," she replied, the voice musical, but raw at the same time. "I am here to show to you two paths which you might take. Take my hand, James Ellison, and come with me...come and learn, before this night is over."
The words were kind, considerate even, but Jim was hesitant to place his hand in hers. There was something so very strange about this. He searched her face, her eyes, trying to find a clue. Finally, certain that she could probably wait him out, he stretched a hand out to her, his own grasping a sleek black paw a moment later. A blink transformed it into a human hand; small, fragile, easily damaged in his own. The power of the cat was obvious beneath the muscle and cartilage and Jim shuddered.
A blink of an eye and they were standing by the front door, but Jim had only to look around once to know that this was not the same loft he'd been in just moments before.
There was more atmosphere, for lack of a better word. Whereas his loft rang with Blair's chatter and noise, and exuded friendship and camaraderie, this loft was redolent of *love*. Love, passion, desire, delight, warmth, wonder, excitement. Still with friendship, but it was obvious that *this* Jim and Blair had gone beyond those boundaries.
The couple was sitting on the couch, facing the Christmas tree--very much like the one in his own loft--holding each other, talking. Cognizant of the spirit standing behind him, Jim moved closer, casting his sight on them and tuning his hearing in to hear the low-murmured words passed between two men who were obviously lovers.
"Are we still going to Stephen's for dinner tomorrow?" Blair was asking, playfully tracing a finger along one rib.
"Hey, stop that!" Jim swatted at the younger man's finger. "Yeah." The older man smiled. "He said that J.B. was really looking forward to seeing us."
"Well, since we're the only uncles he has...and *someone* in this room spoils him shamelessly..." Blair let his voice trail off as he rolled over into Jim's arms, facing him. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"
Ellison pretended to consider the question. "Not in at least, oh, an hour or two."
"So you're pretty much overdue, aren't you?" The younger man's lips hovered just over Jim's, hot breath teasing at the sensitive mouth.
"I'd say so, Chief," Jim muttered, his hands caressing Blair's long back and the sweet curves of his ass. He cupped the rounded mounds in his hands and squeezed gently, springy flesh giving way under his fingertips.
A low moan issued from his partner, and the real Jim nearly groaned as well. He felt like the worst kind of voyeur doing this, watching a moment that was supposed to be intensely private. For an instant he was jealous of himself; of the Jim Ellison who held that wonderful man in his arms; who was making him moan and quiver with need and love.
"I love you, Jim," the quiet voice rang through the stillness of the loft. Wet kissing noises punctuated the statement, followed by more kisses, and Jim watched in fascinated awe as his future counterpart slid the two men down onto the couch, pulling Blair up on top of him like a blanket.
"I love you, Sandburg," the larger man was saying softly, raining kiss after kiss over the face of the man who held his heart. "Blair...oh, god, yeah...right there, baby..."
The younger man had shifted and was rubbing their bodies together, pressing firmly for maximum friction. He lowered his head and consumed Jim's mouth in a kiss that should have melted them on the spot or sent the entire loft bursting into flames.
Ellison's hands were combing through the long, curly hair that was floating around them, his fingers anchoring to the curved back of Blair's head, holding on. He pressed those luscious lips tight against his, his tongue probing wetly in the dark, moist cavern within them. Blair groaned loudly and Present-Jim gasped in arousal as he watched his partner shift upward, so that he was straddling Jim's swollen groin.
Jim pulled Blair's shirt off him and traced a finger around the puckered nipples there. He brushed silky hair aside and gently teased the pebbled buds, feeling them stiffen further under his touch. Large, gentle hands reached around to press against Blair's back, bringing the younger man closer to Jim's mouth, open and waiting to taste one small, swollen tip.
"Ah! Jim...man, you're gonna kill me..." Blair's words were sighs, mostly, as he arched his back to bring his nipple into closer contact with Jim's hot, wet mouth.
"Good way to go," the older man gasped, pushing his heated groin upward, searching out Blair's arousal. Sandburg gasped himself when the heat of both cocks met and melded. He shifted again, pushing himself back on Jim's legs, exposing Jim's hard, angry erection poking through the folds of his robe.
"No underwear..?" A single eyebrow was raised.
"Didn't want you to have to work too hard," Jim teased, running his own fingers over his cock, watching with pleasure as Blair's eyes dilated and glazed. He arched, stroking himself. "For you, babe."
"Shit--" Blair breathed, jumping off the older man to skim his pants down his legs and off. Shaking hands quickly untied Jim's robe, leaving the older man naked, surrounded by a pool of fabric on either side, one large hand still slowly stroking the pulsing cock.
"Get yourself ready, Chief. I want to watch you..." Jim's voice was hoarse and he trailed off when Blair spun around, fingers groping in the cushions for the lube they kept there. A low, primal growl echoed through the loft when the smaller man raised one leg onto the coffee table, bending forward a bit. The growl became a groan of lust when slender, slick fingers probed at the rosy entrance to Blair's body.
Sandburg's head fell back as his fingers probed his body, readying himself. A low moan issued from his parted lips and Jim growled in response. "I'm ready," Blair whispered. "Oh, god, I'm ready."
"Then come here, baby, and be ready to ride." Jim reached for Blair, helping him ease into a straddling position. The larger man held Blair's waist with one hand and trailed a finger down his face with the other, pausing to rub across full, swollen lips. "Want you so bad," he said softly.
"Yours, lover," Blair whispered in return, moving his body to take Jim within himself. "Oh...god..." he shuddered, sliding down on to the engorged erection. Beneath him, Jim was shaking and shivering, low moans rising to fill the quiet night.
The real Jim stood there watching them, mind whirling and body throbbing, as the two men made hot, sweet love to each other. Bodies moving and rocking in rhythm; low grunts and moans, whispered words of love and pleasure exchanged.
It was a passionate pas de deux, a dance of love growing and building to a thundering crescendo. Sounds of flesh meeting flesh, moving slickly and wetly; soft cries when the pleasure was too much to be borne; hot moans as they approached the peak. Without realizing, Jim wandered over to stand behind the couch, drawn there by the intense loving he was seeing; wanting to be as close as he could.
Blair had his head thrown back and was gently pinching his own nipples, playing with the hard little buds. His mouth was open, showing a hint of the dark cavern within, lips gleaming wetly in the dim light. The future-Jim was holding him steady, thrusting up into the warm, willing body. They matched their movements, then Blair dropped one hand to stroke his own hard cock, groaning when it strained forward in his fist.
Their movements became fast, frenzied, nearly out of control. The hot, musky scent of arousal filling the air around them was joined by the bitter, salty scent of ejaculate as Blair shouted and released himself in spurts onto Jim's chest. The older man grabbed his hips harder and jammed himself into the hot body, groaning loudly as he released his juices in a flood.
"I love you, Blair," Jim murmured as the younger man fell forward onto his chest. He cuddled the warm body close to him, his hands smoothing soothingly down the still-heaving form. "Love you, love you, love you. You're all for me, baby." Soft kisses were pressed against a sweaty forehead and damp curls.
A low chuckle resounded and Blair drew himself up, propping himself on his arms, still resting on Jim's chest. "You're wonderful, you know? I'm so glad that we...found the strength to find each other, Jim." Dark blue eyes grew serious. "I can't imagine life without you in it, anymore. I need you...need how you complete me."
Large hands threaded themselves through long curls, drawing Blair down for a deep kiss. "I love you too, baby. Merry Christmas."
"Happy anniversary," the younger man responded, lowering his mouth once again to meet Jim's.
The real Jim drew back when the men lost themselves once again in each other. "What did he mean, 'Happy anniversary'?" he asked the spirit standing next to him.
"The Jim and Blair in this time line found each other and their love on Christmas. They celebrate the gift of Christmas with the gift of their love for one another." She gave him a hard look. "You must see more, James Ellison, because I can see that you're not completely convinced yet."
The loft disappeared around them and Jim found himself standing with this odd, rather frightening spirit, on a small grassy hill. He looked around, trying to avoid his guide, who looked now more panther than human. Low growls filled the air and Jim shuddered. "What is this place?" he asked, because he didn't recognize it.
"We are on the outer edge of the Cascade Cemetery." The spirit pointed a finger, gesturing to a small knot of people not far from there.
"Who's dead?" Jim demanded, already knowing the answer from the prickle of the fine hairs on the back of his neck. "Dammit, answer me!"
"Watch and listen, James Ellison." The spirit pushed him and he found himself kneeling next to a new grave, and the obviously grieving form of his partner.
*This* Blair Sandburg was a long way from the loving, mischievous man in his mind. This Blair looked old, tired. Bitter. His eyes were red, presumably from crying. Jim ached to put his arms around him and comfort him.
"Blair, it wasn't your fault." Jim looked up in surprise to see Stephen standing there, his own eyes sad.
"I should have been there for him," the younger man muttered. "He needed me."
Stephen knelt next to the grave. "Blair, listen to me. You were there for him. You gave him everything he needed and then some. It wasn't your fault that he couldn't--or wouldn't--open his heart and let you in. Not your fault."
Tears welled in Blair's eyes, one or two sliding down pale cheeks. "I should have tried harder."
"To do what? Make him love you?" A quiet gasp from Blair brought a rueful smile to Stephen's face. "I know you love him, Blair. I'm sure he loved you too, even if he didn't say it."
"Stephen, he died alone. I've been tagging around after him for nearly five years; why couldn't I have tagged along that day? If I'd just been there..." The younger man wrapped his arms around himself and rocked, quiet gasps escaping the only indication that he might be crying.
"He died alone because he wouldn't let you love him, Blair. The fact that you weren't with him with he was killed is not the issue here. Would you have been grieving any more or less if you'd been there when the killer shot him?"
'So that's how I died,' Jim considered absently, still trying to quell the harsh aching in his own chest at the pain he'd brought to his family...to Blair.
"I...don't know..." Blair gasped quietly. "I just know that as long as he was alive there was always a small part of me that could hope...could wish.... Now that's gone. God, Stephen...it's like part of me has been ripped out. I feel so empty inside. I don't know if I'd have felt that way if he loved me in return...probably...but at least I would have memories of loving him." Blair glanced up at the sky. "It's gonna rain again, Stephen. You go on to the car; I'll be there in a few minutes."
"You sure, Blair?"
The younger man nodded. "I need to...say goodbye..."
"Okay." Stephen Ellison put a comforting hand on Blair's shoulder for a moment and squeezed, then moved away from the grave. Jim watched as his friend and partner shifted a little closer.
"Jim." A quiet sound, more an escaping breath than a word. "Man, I miss you so bad. I wish I could tell you...wish I *had* told you, how much I love you. I don't know if you can hear me, big guy, but I'll talk anyway. Maybe I'll feel better, eventually.
"You were the best friend a guy could have, Jim. And the research for my doctorate, I'm always going to be grateful for that. But Jim...god, there could have been so much more there. *Why*? Was it because I'm a guy? You never struck me as homophobic, but I guess its different if it's personal. I know you loved me...in your own way. We were too close for me to not know that. I guess I'll never know...
"I hope you're at peace wherever you are now, and that you're able someday to find the person that will make you happy. Maybe we'll meet up again in another life, and I'll be that person." Blair shrugged and wiped his eyes. "Be at peace, man. I love you."
Jim Ellison stood and watched Blair walk toward the car waiting for him, cold rain running through his curly hair. He whirled around, searching for the spirit. "Tell me that this won't happen!" 'I can't stand the thought of hurting Blair. Not Blair. I love him too much.'
"The future is always changing, always shifting. Nothing is preordained but that we live and die. Take your thoughts and feelings and look at them closely...you know how you feel. You know what you can do with that. *You* hold the power to change things for the better, or for the worse. It's up to you."
The ghostly apparition began fading and Jim started back in a panic. "No! Don't go yet--I need to know..." Blackness swirled around him, closing in on him. He fought it, then accepted it, welcoming the freedom.
'Where am I?' was the first coherent thought he had. 'When is it?' was the next. He laid still for a moment, heart racing, trying to decide where he was. A quiet snuffling noise from downstairs caught his attention and he realized with a burst of clarity that he was at home in his loft again, in his own present time. 'And it's still Christmas! I still have time...' He rolled over, his breath catching. 'Blair! I love Blair...gotta tell him that...do it before it's too late.' A shudder tore through him at the thought of the final vision the spirit of the Future had shown him. 'Blair in pain is hard enough to handle; Blair in pain because of something I did or didn't do is unthinkable.'
His clock read 5:17. It was still early enough to get some sleep before the morning began...before he told Blair how much he loved him. How much he wanted him. A small spike of desire hit him and he shivered. 5:18. 'I could go downstairs and wait for him on the couch.' That wasn't much more telling than still being up here. Jim stared at the ceiling, his brain rushing furiously to figure it out. 5:20. 'Fuck it. I'm going to go downstairs and take it from there.'
He headed downstairs, quietly. The tree lights were blinking merrily, adding their own charm to the ambiance of the loft. 'There's love here, too. I just never noticed it before because I was too busy trying to hide it from myself.' His feet carried him over to stand before the door of his partner's room.
Blair was curled in on himself, on one side. Hair was flying everywhere, dark curls shiny even in the darkness. The scent that made up Blair for him permeated this room; he breathed deeply, pulling it into his lungs. His thoughts and dreams carried him forward until he was standing next to the small bed, staring down at his partner. Although Blair always claimed he was cold, he threw an enormous amount of body heat. Jim shivered, imaging that heat wrapped around him.
'I love you, Chief.' That thought held firmly in his mind, Jim slid himself under the covers into bed with Blair, spooning up to the smaller man, delighting in the heat in his arms now. Sandburg shifted a little, making a quiet murmur, but Jim wrapped him in his arms and crooned quiet, soothing noises. Blair settled down into his arms, still deep in sleep.
Jim drifted, thinking how nice this was, just holding Blair, loving him. He felt like a kid with a secret, part of him wanting to keep it forever, hold it close to him. The rest of him wanted to shout it to the world. A couple of lines from a Christmas song he'd heard yesterday came to him as he made that last move from wake to sleep:
I
wish you a hopeful Christmas, I wish you a brave new year
All the anguish, pain and silence leave your heart and let your load be clear
They said they'd be snow at Christmas they said they'd be peace on earth
Hallelujah Noel, be it heaven or hell the Christmas we get we deserve.
Blair came awake slowly, body stretching, and shuddering from the pleasure of that stretch. Large warm arms tightened around him, then relaxed, and a familiar voice whispered into his ear, "Merry Christmas, Chief."
"Jim?" his voice came out in a near-squeak.
"Mmmm..." a warm tongue traced the edge of his ear and Blair shuddered again. The backward motion of his hips brought his butt into contact with a hard, hot object that seemed very happy to snuggle in between his cheeks, if the surging was any indication.
"Jim...what're you doin', man?" His voice, he was pleased to note, hardly shook at all.
"Mmm...loving you," his partner replied, sucking on his earlobe before moving a little and rimming the inner part of his ear. A soft chuckle sent more shivers through him when he shuddered in Jim's arms, from the tongue.
"H-how come...?" Oh, man, words were rapidly becoming a scarce commodity here.
"How come what? How come I'm loving you?" Jim licked the area behind Blair's ear, then traced a line down his neck with the tip of his tongue.
"Um...oooh.. oh, yeah..." teeth were nibbling on his neck now, and Blair discovered his brain had forgotten what speech was. He arched his head, no longer caring *why* Jim was doing this to him, only hoping he never stopped.
Ellison felt a full-body shudder ripple through him at Blair's responsiveness. He nipped and sucked his way down the side of the neck offered to him, then shifted to bring Blair over onto his back, giving him full access. He ran his tongue across the Adam's apple that bobbed with his guide shivered and swallowed, then placed his mouth over it and suckled. A low moan rose up and Blair clutched at the sheets.
"You taste so good, Chief," Jim whispered into the curve of Blair's ear, his tongue sampling again. "I'd like to nibble you all day; don't think I can ever taste enough of you."
An explosive shudder ripped through Blair with those words and he rolled onto his side, facing Jim, his mouth seeking his partner's. Ellison acquiesced happily, parting his lips for Blair's tongue, playing with the responsive organ as it stroked against his own.
It was a give and take of passion as two sets of hands roamed, touching ass, back, shoulders, nipples. Hair was stroked and played with, hot breath exchanged with wet kisses, limbs tangled together.
They were both groaning and panting for air when Jim broke a long kiss and gasped, "More...I need to feel you against me, Blair."
His partner shuddered his agreement and they separated briefly to strip boxers off. Jim groaned loudly at the first glimpse--for real--of his lover's erection. It was hard and swollen, the tip slick and gleaming with pre-ejaculate. The long, thick length was throbbing, balls drawn up tight against Blair's body in anticipation of orgasm. Jim shivered in anticipation, longing to taste his lover fully, and shifted until he was able to flick his tongue against the wet head.
Blair arched toward him, throwing his head back with a loud groan. Jim growled as the essence of his partner exploded in technicolor across his tongue, his taste buds driven into high gear. With a small moan he opened his mouth and sucked the engorged cock in, swallowing as much as he could.
"Oh, god, JIM!!" Blair shrieked his name as the hot mouth became a hotter, wet tunnel, and he was driving into it. The muscles of Jim's throat rubbed and massaged him, working his heated length. He thrust upward, trying to drive himself as deeply as he could into that hungry, grasping mouth. A couple more long sucks and Blair was grabbing onto the sheets, his body tightening and straining upward. He had time for one warning, "Jjjjiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmm!!!!" before his body spasmed and he released himself into Jim's mouth, long pulses of hot fluid.
Ellison swallowed every drop, then shifted upward to kiss his partner and share the flavor.
"Mmmm..." Blair sighed and smiled at his lover. "What can we do for you?" he asked, grinning impishly. Long, slender fingers sought out the hot column and began stroking. Jim groaned and covered Blair's mouth with his own, his tongue thrusting into the wet cavern like his cock was now thrusting into the heated tunnel created by Blair's hand.
"Close..." Ellison groaned, his body beginning to tighten. "So...damn...close..." he was panting now, moving faster, urging Blair to stroke him faster. "Harder...Blair...oh, god...do me...harder..." A long, deep groan was pulled from him as his body stiffened and spasmed, pulse after pulse of thick, creamy liquid flowing over Blair's hand.
The younger man released him, then bent his head and gently licked the spilled seed off Jim's abdomen and now-flaccid penis. Ellison moaned at the touch of lips and tongue against his highly sensitive organ, then shuddered when Blair parted his lips and shared the flavor with him.
They lay together in replete silence, bodies slowly calming and relaxing. Blair snuggled into him, fingers idly stroking over the broad, hard chest.
"You want to tell me what this is all about, man?" The quiet voice finally asked the question Jim had been expecting for nearly an hour. "Not that I'm complaining, Jim, but--"
"But it's very unexpected." Jim threaded his fingers through the dark curls, loving the feel of them against his skin. He tilted Blair's head to look at him. "I love you, Sandburg. I didn't want to go any longer without telling you."
Dilated, dark blue eyes stared at him. "I love you, too, man. Oh, god, Jim." The grad student buried his face against Jim's chest, shaking slightly. "You know how long I've wanted to hear that from you?"
Jim shook his head, then realized Blair couldn't see him. "No, but I know I've felt it for a while. Just been scared to say it."
Sandburg drew back. "So what made you say it today?" There were no recriminations, just curiosity.
Jim shrugged. "I just didn't want to go any longer...you never can tell what's gonna happen in the future--and I wanted to be sure you knew how I felt."
Another shiver. "I love you, Jim. God, that was the secret I was gonna tell you. You've just given me the greatest gift ever. Merry Christmas, lover." Blair kissed him gently.
"Love you, too, Sandburg. Merry Christmas, yourself."
And God Bless us, Every One.
~~Finis~~
Back
to Sentinel
Stories