by K Ryn
The soft shuffle of papers drew Jim's attention to the young man who had been in his thoughts. He turned slightly and watched Blair ease himself off the couch and cross to the kitchen. Jim heard the ting of a spoon hitting the side of a cup -- no two cups -- and smiled, turning back to gaze out onto the city again. He didn't need to see his Guide to monitor his well-being and physical presence, but he'd found it immensely soothing on his own still frazzled nerves.
He was painfully aware of Blair's brooding silence as his Guide joined him on the balcony and handed him a cup of coffee. The younger man had been uncharacteristically quiet since they'd returned to the loft after attending a small funeral service for Little Boy. An envelope containing enough money for a cremation and private ceremony for both Temian and Little Boy had been waiting for Jim on his desk the day Blair was released from the hospital. Jim didn't know who had been behind it -- although his money was on either Simon or Joel -- but the gesture had warmed him and he knew that Blair had been deeply touched.
Out of everything that had happened, the death of the gentle homeless man had hit Blair the hardest. He had only dim memories of the attack and his subsequent flight. He'd grown grim when Jim had told him about the man who'd been killed by mistake, and he'd paled at the risks that Jim had taken with his senses during the frantic search. True to form, Blair had tried to take the responsibility for everything onto his own shoulders and Jim had been forced to call in Simon to help put things into perspective.
Still, some guilt remained. Jim knew that the anthropologist was having a difficult time coming to grips with the knowledge that he owed his life to another man's death. Blair was mourning the loss of a friend that he'd never had time to know. Jim could relate to what he was feeling. During the ceremony he'd sent his own prayer of thanks along with the hope that it would somehow reach Little Boy's spirit and help it rest peacefully, knowing how much Jim appreciated his selfless act.
Jim shifted his position so that he could see Blair's face when the young man joined him. "You okay?" he asked softly.
"Yeah... I was just thinking... about the ceremony. It was nice of the guys to do that, you know?"
Jim nodded, but remained silent, hoping that Blair would keep talking and let the healing process begin again.
"I know it's probably illegal, but I was thinking that it would be fitting if we spread his ashes at the 'park' where he used to feed the pigeons," Blair murmured quietly, staring outward, not meeting Jim's eyes. "What do you think?"
"I think he'd like that. What do you want to do about the carvings?" There had been very few possessions left to dispose of when they'd found Little Boy's "home." Jim had accepted a box full of Little Boy's wooden toys and had given them to Blair just that morning. At Blair's suggestion, several had been placed with the body before the cremation, but Jim was curious about the rest.
"I'm going to contact a friend of mine over at the Children's Museum. I'm sure they'd love them for their collection. I thought he'd..." Blair's voice cracked and it took a few moments before he could continue. "I thought he would have liked that."
Jim heard the rustle of fabric as Blair pulled something from his pocket. A small object was placed in his hands a moment later, so familiar, that he didn't need to use his Sentinel vision in the fading light to see what it was.
"I saved this one for you. Simon didn't think that they'd need it for evidence and I thought... well, I thought maybe you'd like to have it."
Jim closed his hand around the small wooden toy. It had been the clue that had finally led him to his Guide. The lifeline that held him to his sanity. A wave of familiar guilt and fear swept through him, and he turned his face away from Blair. The young man's hand was immediately on his shoulder, urging him to turn back.
"I want you to stop feeling guilty about this. You weren't responsible for what happened."
Jim looked down into his Guide's troubled face and drew a deep breath. "Blair, this was my past that threatened your life -- that could have ended your life. If we hadn't found you when we did..."
"But you did find me. I knew you would."
"Blair..."
"Jim, listen to me. Even when I was half out of my head, I knew that you'd be looking for me. I knew you wouldn't give up."
"Good thing you didn't give up," Jim responded. "If you hadn't been beating on that door with the pipe, even I wouldn't have known where to look."
The first impish smile Jim had seen in days crossed the younger man's face. "Yeah, well I'm not sure if I should admit it, but it was your goofy house rules that gave me the idea. You know... no noise after ten o' clock."
"How'd you know what time it was?"
"Hey, I figured it was ten o'clock somewhere, man." Blair grinned and then the smile faded, replaced with a look of determination. "Look, I just want you to know that this isn't scaring me off. I'm where I want to be and I'm doing what I want to do. The crazies from your past are just part of what comes with it. Who knows? You might end up dealing with someone from my past one of these days."
"Now I'm worried. Just how many gun-toting, drug dealing academics have you got hiding in the closet of your life, Chief?"
"Don't underestimate them, Jim. You've never seen the feeding frenzy at grant time. Let it go okay? You've got to dump that guilt, man. It's not healthy."
Jim shut his eyes for a moment as the tight knot of fear in his chest loosened. "How did you know?" the Sentinel asked softly.
"Just like I was sure you'd find me," the Guide whispered. "I know you too well. I know the value you place on friendship."
"I hope you do," Jim murmured, smiling into the darkness.
END
Author's Final Notes: See, Majik was right -- there was smarm!
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