Just This Once

By Mickey M.
© October 1997

Later, much later, he would think back and wonder how such a simple bust could go so horribly wrong. 

One minute he and Sandburg were crouched down behind the overturned oil drums, waiting for the bad guys to give it up. The next minute, a warehouse was exploding, four men were making a getaway on motorcyles and his partner lay on the ground, bleeding from three different gunshot wounds. 

"Officer down!" Ellison shouted, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "I need a medic over here, NOW!" He was already pulling his jacket off, jerking at the lining to use as a cloth to staunch the worst of the blood flow.

Okay, so Sandburg wasn't an officer. He was damn close; more cop than observer some days. Ellison felt a strange surge of pride sometimes when he thought about that; occasionally that surge of pride was mixed with guilt, since Blair was never supposed to have become a cop. It was an insane feeling, guilt and pride warring with each other for dominance.

"Hang on, Chief," he soothed, brushing tangled curls back from the pale forehead.

"Jim...it hurts. Oh, God, it hurts..."

"Shh...I know." Jim looked around. "I need a medic here NOW, dammit!" he roared one more time, trying to catch someone's attention. In the confusion of explosions and gunfire, the two men were overlooked. Jim ripped Blair's shirt open, trying to find the bullet holes, to apply pressure to staunch the flow of blood.

Blair coughed weakly. "I'm dyin', Jim."

"No, you're not. You can't die, Chief. It's not supposed to be."

"Tell that to the gods of war then, 'cause they're claimin' their prize."

"I won't let you go," Ellison swore, his hands pressing against the femoral artery.

"I don't think it's up to you, Jim." The dark blue eyes clouded a little, then softened. "It's been a hell of a ride, man. Never expected it to be like this."

"Don't do this, Blair. Goddammit, you can't die on me!" Jim looked around frantically, finally catching Simon's eye. The large black man started in surprise when he saw Blair laid out on the ground. Jim heard him call for the EMTs before he turned his attention back to the smaller figure on the ground in front of him.

"Jim--" Blair coughed again, blood bubbling from the side of his mouth.

"Don't try to talk, Chief. Save your strength."

"I have to tell you..."

"It can wait," Jim commanded tersely, his body stiff with tension and pain. He was going to find the fuckers who did this and they were going to pay!

"No...No, it can't." Sandburg panted, his overtaxed body trying to draw in enough oxygen to keep it going. The paramedics were gathering around him now, applying pressure bandages and emergency dressings.

Jim took a good look when Blair was moved onto a stretcher and lifted into the ambulance. One bullet in the side, another in his leg, close to where Quinn had shot him once before and the third one in the chest, no exit wound for that.

He wasn't allowed to ride in the ambulance; not enough room, they told him. He broke every speed law on the books following the ambulance back to town.

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

"His prognosis isn't good," the doctor told him and Simon later that night, after surgery. "He's still bleeding internally and the bullets did a lot of damage on their way through. The third bullet penetrated his left lung and we can't remove it without risking the lung."

"Come on, Doc," Jim pleaded. "We're almost at the end of the 20th century and you can't fix a few bullet holes? Anyway, I thought people could live with just one lung."

"It's not that easy, Detective."

"Can I see him?"

"For a little while. Mr. Sandburg's in ICU right now. Visiting hours and times are limited, because of the nature of the illnesses there."

Jim nodded, his mind already on how he was going to stay with his partner until he was moved to a regular ward.

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

Blair was hooked up to more machines than he'd had during the Golden incident. Heart monitor, respirator, several IVs, Other equipment he didn't recognize, preferred not to know. Everywhere he turned there was another piece of machinery.

His guide's eyes were closed, his body making the noises of a sick, frail body. Jim pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat down to wait.

It took twelve hours before Blair regained consciousness.

"I knew you'd do it," Jim smiled, stroking the cold hand he held.

"I...have to...tell you..." Blair stumbled over the words, his breath coming harsh and heavy.

"What, Chief?"

"Gonna...die...Jim. Need to...tell you...before it's...too...late."

"Too late for what? Blair, you're not going to die." Jim squeezed the hand tightly, willing his own strength into the failing body.

"...love you, Jim..." his friend panted, the words so quiet that he had to turn his hearing up to catch them.

"I love you too, buddy," he smiled, trying to coax his partner into trying a little harder.

"No!" Blair panted, "I *love*...you...Jim."

"No, Blair."

"Yes... Needed...to tell you...before I go..."

"You're not going anywhere, dammit! Quit saying that!" Jim's words were a harsh whisper, but might as well have been screamed.

Blair shook his head on the pillow, several breathy gasps escaping him.

"No...c'mon, Chief...you mean to much to me to die like this...what am I going to do without you?"

Jim sat back in his chair, his mind spinning numbly.

"It's not...up to me..." the younger man gasped. He took a shuddering breath, then began coughing, bright red blood coming up.

Jim grabbed Blair's shoulders, trying to hold him still during the worst of the spasm. When the blood started coming up he slammed his hand down on the call button.

Blair was wheeled into emergency surgery for a second time in 24 hours.

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

This time, when Blair woke up, Jim was sitting next to the bed, his hands folded as if in prayer, head resting on those hands. His arms were propped on the bed, holding him up, and he looked like he hadn't slept in a week.

"...jim...?" It was a quiet whisper, harsh and hoarse.

"I'm here, Chief." Jim took the clammy hand into his own, giving into the urge to gently kiss the wrist.

"...call my mom..."

"I will."

"...love you, jim..." Blair turned his head slowly to look at Jim, tears gathered in his eyes. "...sorry 'bout...getting shot..."

"Not your fault, Chief." The larger man gently squeezed the cold hand, then laid it back down on the bed. He watched his partner's effort to stay conscious, eyes rolling in his head. All around them was the hiss of the machinery that was keeping Blair alive. He shuddered at the sounds. This wasn't how it was supposed to be! Best friends didn't die like this! "You rest now, Sandburg. Sleep a lot so you can get better, you hear? You're not leaving me. I'm not going to give you up without a fight, dammit! You better not, either! You hear me?"

There was no answer from the figure on the bed.

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

How much time passed before Blair opened his eyes again, Jim didn't know. He spent the hours quietly contemplating his guide and the words of a day or so before. 'I love you.' Said with such conviction, such emotion. How did he feel about Blair? He'd told the truth...he loved the younger man. Was he in love with him? He wasn't sure. He'd never considered the idea before. Could he even imagine life without Blair with him? Absolutely not. What did that mean? The fact that he depended on Blair for calming, strength, information, wisdom. Depended on him to always be there, no matter what. They'd been best friends for so long now, their lives twined inseparably. He considered how he listened every night for Blair's heartbeat before falling asleep to that comforting sound. The way Blair's scent had permeated every corner of his--their--home, tendrils of it finding their way even upstairs to his room. To his bed. Blair had borrowed a pillow of his once when his back was bothering him; Jim had never bothered to wash it, preferring the natural, spicy scent of his guide over laundry soap. It was a comforting, soothing scent and one that he breathed as deeply of as he did air.

Did he love Blair? Yes, without question or reservation.

Was he *in* love with Blair? Probably.

A small noise beside him alerted him and he shifted his gaze to see dark, smoky-blue eyes considering him. There wasn't much of Blair visible; they'd inserted a respirator tube a few hours before, when his breathing began faltering. The second surgery had cost his guide a lung and his body was having trouble compensating for it.

"Okay, Chief?"

The eyes were anxious, but focused. Pain-filled, but, Jim realized with a start, filled with love as well. Love for him. He leaned closer and brushed strands of hair back.

"It's okay, Blair. I understand. I love you too, buddy." He kissed the pale forehead, his lips lingering for a moment, tasting the scent that had become so familiar to him.

A tiny sigh issued forth from the weakened man and his fingers curled around the strong ones that were holding his hand. Jim watched in concern as his eyes rolled back and he fell unconscious again.

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

Blair struggled for seven days before giving up. On the seventh day after surgery he coded.

Jim knew he'd never forget the sound of the heart monitor screaming its warning; it would remain in his mind for life. He stood back from the bed after the doctor and nurses nearly tripped over him, watching as they checked Blair over. He was nearly frantic with panic and disbelief when they suddenly ceased all activity and shut down the machines; his panic surged into overwhelming relief when he realized that Blair's heart was still beating, albeit weakly.

Simon appeared out of nowhere and led him from the room when he'd have stayed to watch Blair sleep. He followed his captain, then decided to get some answers from the doctors.

"Don't, Jim," Simon warned, seeing his intent.

"Dammit, I have to know! Why'd they stop working on him?"

"Sandburg's been coded as DNR, Jim. You knew that."

DNR. Do Not Resuscitate. The three cruelest words in the English language.

"I'd forgotten," he whispered, unable to comprehend that the next time Blair's heart stopped it would be over.

"They're taking him off the life-support too," Simon continued. "We found Naomi and she has the authority to request that."

"I know," Jim responded dully, his heart aching. //This can't be happening,// his mind insisted. //I'm going to wake up from this nightmare anytime now.//

"Pull it together, Ellison," his captain warned. "You're in there by the grace of god and the director's good wishes. I pulled a few favors in for you, man. Most people don't get to live in ICU. Don't get yourself thrown out."

"No," Jim said softly. "Are you finished, sir?"

"Yes," Simon said shortly. Ellison turned and re-entered the younger man's room.

The chair had been knocked over by someone in their haste to try and save Blair. Jim righted the furniture and drew it back beside the bed, scooting as close as he could get. He took Blair's hand in his own and held it, felt the weakness of the pulse beneath his fingers. His own hearing confirmed Blair's imminent death in the faltering breaths and sluggish heartbeat.

"You can't die, Chief," he began, stroking the dark curls, now lank and dull against the white of the bedsheets. "What will I do without my guide?"

"...you...go on..." came a hoarse whisper. "...always...go on...jim. always..."

"Not without you," was his own ragged reply. "I never realized before...now I see how much time I wasted. Time I could have had loving you."

"...it's okay..." Blair opened his eyes to look into Jim's. "...you don't...have to...worry about it..."

"I wish..." Jim shook his head. "I don't know what I wish. That I had more time? Could do things differently? I don't know."

Cold fingers rubbed against his own. "...need to go, jim... please?"

"You asking my permission?"

Blair gave a tiny nod and Jim felt tears gathering in his eyes. "I can't give it, Blair. You know I can't."

"...*please*..." he asked, his eyes echoing the plea. "i can't...do this...anymore... let me go."

Jim leaned close and gathered Blair into a loose hug, his sadness increasing at the frailty he felt in the smaller man's body. "You're asking the impossible from me, Sandburg."

"...and you of me, keeping me here," Blair replied, coughs racking his body once again. "please, jim."

"Blair..." Jim sighed, staring into those fathomless eyes once again. "Do what you need to, Chief. That's it, close your eyes. You rest now and you'll feel better when you wake up. That's it, buddy." He stroked the soft hair back from Blair's face. "I love you, Chief," he finished in a quiet voice, his ears listening to the response in the gentle sigh that issued from his partner's lips.

He sat there, holding Blair in a loose embrace, murmuring soft words of encouragement until the quiet, labored breathing ceased altogether.

"Goodbye, Chief."

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

Naomi had him cremated, so there was no funeral, just a memorial service. Jim wasn't surprised, really, at the number of Cascade PD employees who attended; in the nearly four years that Blair partnered with him he'd touched a lot of lives. Dr. Sandburg was a very popular person at the precinct for someone who had no use for cops as a rule.

He'd chosen the music to play at the service. Naomi had argued with him at first, until he'd shared with her the last moments of Blair's life; the feelings the younger man had revealed to him...and the knowledge that they were returned.

"Oh, Jim," she'd sighed, shaking her head. She'd gathered him into her arms then and rocked him as he sobbed his grief and pain, finally able to express some of it. And that had been that.

The service took place on a warm, sunny day; the weather totally at odds with the coldness in place in his chest. He listened with little patience to the droning of the holy man Naomi had called to lead the service, listened with little more patience to different friends of Blair's. Then Naomi asked him to recall his memories of his friend.

"I met Blair Sandburg on a day a lot like today--the sun was shining and it was beautiful. I couldn't see the beauty because of a crisis in my life at the time, but he saw it and saw the potential in me. I never even stood a chance against him. He charged into my life and took it over. Added laughter, friendship and love to it. Gave me a reason to want to have a friend again, when I'd done so much toward driving people away. Blair helped me turn my house into a home; a place where I actually enjoyed spending time." He paused, trying to gather his thoughts, trying not to break down completely. "I owe him so much more than I could ever repay him. Even my life in place of his wouldn't be enough to balance the scales; maybe someone knew that and just decided to take that life back, I don't know. I do know that my life will never be the same without him." Jim stopped and looked around, considering his next words. "No one will ever hold the place in my heart that he did."

The first strains of music began then and he closed his eyes, wondering what he'd been thinking when he'd chosen this. It was so true though; every element of the song seemed to have been written for him and Blair. He shuddered and let the words to "Wind Beneath My Wings" wash over him and through him.

//God, Blair...how am I going to go on without you? You really were my strength, the force that kept me going. I never wanted you in the shadows, to me you shined with a light all your own. For me you got yourself shot, kidnapped, drugged, beaten up. You gave everything you had for me...and never once asked for anything in return.//

You might have thought it went unnoticed
But I've got it all here in my heart.
I want you to know I know the truth
That I would be nothing without you.

Did you ever know that you're my hero
And everything that I'd like to be.
I can fly higher than an eagle,
'cause you are the Wind beneath my Wings.

//I never told you how much I admired you...never thanked you for all you did for me. Never told you I loved you until it was too late. It's not that I was unaware, just unappreciative. I took you for granted. I'd give anything to have you here by me now; I'd tell you daily how much I appreciate you. Thank you, Blair, for your time and understanding. Thank you for your patience and for knowing what I needed before I knew I needed it. Thank you for loving me and for giving of yourself for me. Thank you for everything.//

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

Eventually, as happens, the pain faded for him and life began to slowly return to normal. He never forgot Blair; never forgot what he had meant to him, nor the impact he had had on his life. But the pain of losing his partner lessened to a bearable level and he was able to get on with life once again.

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

Jim blinked and opened his eyes, squinting in pain from the blazing white light. He looked around nervously, uncertain of where he was. The last thing he remembered was feeling so tired...he'd closed his eyes, aware of the soft cries surrounding him. He closed his eyes again against the brightness now and tried to concentrate.

His eyes popped open. Denise! Denise had been with him, that was who had been crying. Denise, and their children and their grandchildren.

"Hey, man. Took you long enough." A soft voice...a familiar voice. Right behind him. He spun around.

"Blair!" Shock coursed through him as he looked at his friend. "What are you...what...am I--?"

"Dead?" the younger man finished softly for him. At his nod his partner continued, "Yes. You died a few days ago. Man, I have been waiting for you for *so* long! I'd almost given up hope of seeing you before I had to go."

"Go?" he asked stupidly, his mind not quite comprehending. "Go where? Blair you're...you...you died forty-two years ago!" //I'm *not* having this conversation. This is *not* happening...//

"New life, buddy," Blair responded in that same soft tone. "It's a bit much, isn't it?"

Jim nodded mutely.

"I've missed you," Blair continued. "Kind of kept track, when I was able to, but I've been busy, too."

"How could you be busy?"

"Oh, I've been learning things I'll need to know for future lives; had a couple trial runs already." Blair smiled gently at Jim, seeing the confusion on his friend's face. "Do you want to rest? Sit down? The process of dying is quite draining, I know."

Jim just goggled at him and Blair sighed. He knew what he was going through, but man, he'd hoped it wouldn't be quite this bad. He'd wanted to see his friend, talk to him one last time, if possible. He'd been told that once you were reborn several times consecutively you lost most of the memories from previous lives. Oh, sure, there were always the odd ones hanging about; that was how people learned about past lives to begin with. Random memories floating around. But he didn't want to risk it.

"Okay, Jim. You just relax. Sit down over here," Blair guided him over to what looked like a low bench, padded with over-stuffed cushions.

"How did I die?" Jim asked finally, raising his eyes to meet vibrant blue ones.

"Natural causes, big guy. Your heart just got tired, I guess."

"How's my family doing?"

"All fine, though they miss you."

"I missed you." It was a soft whisper.

"I know." An even softer whisper.

Jim closed his eyes again, the brightness still bothering him. "Is there any way to tone this down a bit?" he asked, then blinked in confusion when it happened instantly.

Blair laughed. "Kind of like a 'wish it, say it, it happens' thing around here, Jim."

"I guess." The Sentinel opened his eyes fully for the first time, glancing around. "Is this heaven?"

Blair chuckled again. "You sound like if it is, you're surprised to find me here."

"No, that's not what I--"

"I'm teasing, Jim. Take it easy, buddy. No, this isn't heaven...not what you're using as the definition, anyway. This is kind of like the hold-over in between assignments."

"Assignments?"

"New lives."

"You mean reincarnation."

"Yeah."

"I don't know if I believe in that, Blair."

"You don't have to, 'cause it's just your thoughts formed from exposure to ideas in this lifetime. Deep down, in your soul's core is all you need to know. To get started, anyway."

"To get started?"

"Well," a deprecating laugh, "I needed to do some brushing up. Guess some stuff got left out. Most people elect to do some brushing up when they first get here, since it never hurts and it might help."

"Have you been...reincarnated...yet?"

"Yeah, twice. She--I--didn't live past infancy in the first one; in the second I died in a car accident."

"That's awful, Blair!"

"Well, yes and no," Blair shook his head dismissively. "There were good points to the whole experience. I would like a healthy body again though."

Jim considered him. "You look healthy enough. Better than when you..." He broke off, the pain of their forced parting still within him.

"I'll revert back to this whenever I'm here, since it was my first form."

"Are you...real?" Jim pressed a finger against his own arm, surprised to meet solidity there.

"I'm as real as you want me to be, Jim. I'm anything, everything and nothing, all at the same time."

The bigger man shook his head. "That's not possible," he whispered. "Defies the laws of physics."

Blair smiled. "Everything about this place defies the laws of physics, big guy. That's the nature of the place."

"So what do I do now?"

"What do you want to do?"

Jim searched his partner's eyes with his own. "Can I...touch you?"

"Sure," Blair replied easily. "What'd you have in mind?"

"I'd like to hold you. Hug you. Feel you like I know you were, not like I remember." The light blue eyes were filled with pain and Blair felt his own heart ache.

"Jim, that was decades ago. You can't still be...you need to leave that behind, buddy. It'll become excess baggage in your next life and believe me, you don't want that." The smaller man moved closer to where Jim was sitting and held his arms open. "C'mon. Hug all you want to."

Jim stood and moved into the circle waiting for him. It felt good to touch Blair again. He could remember holding him like this once before, but the memory was hazy at best, and Blair had been dying, his body worn out from trying to recover from a horrible shooting.

"You feel so good," he sighed as he felt Blair's arms tighten around him. "I'm so sorry I didn't love you like you needed to be loved. I did, at the end...but it was too late."

"It's never too late, Jim. I still love you, you know."

Jim nodded. "I know you do. I could see it in your eyes, a minute ago." He drew back slightly and smiled for the first time since opening his eyes here--at Blair. "I love you, Chief."

The words washed over Blair, igniting a radiant joy that spread through him like wildfire. "I'm glad, Jim," he whispered, drawing the bigger man back against him. "I'm glad too, that I waited here for you."

"Me, too," was the quiet response from above him. He could feel Jim's cheek resting on his head, felt the gentle warmth and breeze as breath stirred his hair.

"How long do we have?" Jim asked after a while.

"Just this once. I can't stay long--I have a new life waiting for me. I'm due to be 'born' soon. But I had to see you once more...and tell you there will be another life."

"Another life?"

"We'll have another chance to love each other in mortal form, Jim. I'll watch for you...you watch for me. I've been told that we won't actually remember each other, but..."

"My heart will," Jim said, a catch in his voice. "My heart will never forget you."

"Your soul will also remember," Blair said wisely, pulling away from the larger form. "And I know I will, too." He tilted his head back slightly and watched Jim's head descend toward him. Warm lips touched his and he sighed, opening his mouth under the gentle pressure.

They exchanged several soft, loving kisses, then just held each other tightly. For how long, Blair wasn't sure. He became aware of a faint tingle that grew stronger, moving through him. He gasped as the tingle increased and became pressure.

"I have to leave now, Jim. Don't forget me, look for me!"

"Blair--"

"We'll see each other again, Jim. Watch for me!" He called urgently as the pressure increased.

"I love you!"

"I love you," was the echoing whisper, and Jim was alone.

He sat down heavily on the bench and placed his head in his hands, tears sliding silently down his face.

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

"Come on, honey, I really want to get over there and see the new baby!"

"Why do I have to go with you?" the youngster whined. "*I* don't want to see any old baby."

"You're not old enough to stay home by yourself yet, hon. Come on."

He grumbled to himself, **am too old enough**, but didn't say it out loud. This was his mother's best friend and he knew, though no one had actually told him, that this baby was very much a miracle. He could remember his mother crying for her friend when she'd lost other babies, before they could be born.

He endured the short car trip in silence, then the trip up the stairs to the small apartment. Louisa, his mother's friend, sat on the couch with a tiny infant cradled in her arms.

"Oh, Louisa, he's perfect!" his mother exclaimed. The two women lost themselves in conversation over the baby, ignoring the youngster. He scowled and sulked in a chair, wishing he'd brought a book or notebook with him.

He looked up when his mother called, "Honey, could you hold him for a minute? Louisa wants to show me his room."

"I guess," he said, striving for his best 'I don't want to but I will', voice. The infant was placed in his arms and he automatically cradled the head carefully.

"Thanks, hon," he was told and they were gone.

He looked down at the tiny baby and smiled. "Hey, baby." To his surprise the infant opened his eyes and stared right into his own. Something odd fluttered in his stomach and he felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. "I know you," he whispered to the infant. "I've always known you."

The baby let out a gentle breathy sigh and smiled a tiny smile at him.

~finis~

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