Flying

"I was just saying that bisexuality is inherent in humanity....if you use chimps as the model." Blair was arguing his point with good-natured enthusiasm. "Most higher primates practice male *and* female homosexuality as a method of strengthening tribal relationships and in times of high population or food shortages."

Jim turned to him, zipping up his jacket as he did, the November night was clear and cold.

"Are you trying to tell me something, Sandburg?" he asked, opening the truck door, only half-kidding. He'd seen men hit on Blair, as had happened again this evening while they were eating at the grill.

"It would have to be a really special guy." Blair winked at him and Jim felt himself blush. He hadn't done that in years.

Then Blair laughed and Jim felt foolish.

"Get in the car, Sandburg." he snapped.

Blair did, rolling his eyes with mock-indignation.

He talked about societal expectations and population balances all the way home, and Jim was too tired to protest.

 

It had been a grueling week. Nothing spectacular, just a seemingly endless stream of car thefts, drug deals, petty crime and small-time criminals. All of it documented in triplicate *and* electronically.

Last night's stakeout had been the culmination of three sleepless nights. The street kid who's been lifting car stereos with a vengeance was safely tucked away in Juvy and now, at last, he could rest.

He was really looking forward to their camping trip this weekend. Blair had gotten directions to a new site that he was very excited about. There was supposed to be a good hike with a spectacular view.

Jim turned over, automatically listening for the sound of Sandburg's heartbeat.

There it was...even, steady, his breathing slow and easy in deep sleep. It made Jim feel a little uncomfortable, this urge to hear him before he could sleep himself, but he reasoned it was just a part of the Blessed Protector role he'd taken.

He closed his eyes and felt his own heart slow, until the rhythm matched that of his sleeping Guide's.

He slept.

 

"How much further?"

"Another half-mile." Blair grinned at him over the laminated sheet of notebook paper that held the map. "How you feeling?"

They had been discussing the way extreme cold affected his Sentinel abilities around the fire last night.

"Great. I can't smell much, but that's to be expected." Jim answered. He stretched, arms above his head, and then gave himself a shake, took a deep breath. "Wow. This is great."

"Isn't it?" Blair stepped closer to the edge of the narrow trail they were following. A friend at school - a *serious* climber - had suggested it to him, assuring him that it wasn't too difficult for gifted amateurs. He'd been right, and the view was mind-boggling.

Staring down into the canyon - almost a valley - Blair heaved a sigh.

"The Situdanna have a legend." he spoke as they began walking again. He was using a climbing pole, Jim was relying on his greater strength to keep his balance, it was getting steep. "They say that if a man truly believes, in his heart, if that heart is pure and true and if he wants it for no other reason than just to *do* it - not for pride or bragging rights or to prove self-worth - and he's willing to accept that it will only happen *once* in his life - he has to truly accept that and be able to live the rest of that life with only the memory of that joy and no regret to taint it - if all of these things are true, that man can step off the cliff and fly."

"Has anyone ever done it?"

"One person in the last hundred years." Blair was speaking very quietly now, and Jim had to turn up his hearing. "I wanted to..."

"Wasn't your heart pure enough?" Jim wasn't teasing.

"No." Blair looked back at him and Jim saw a flash of sadness in the blue eyes he knew as well as his own. The eyes were all he could see, Blair had a scarf wrapped tightly around the bottom of his face and the hood of his coat pulled low over his forehead. Jim was reminded of how much he hated the cold. He was out here because he knew Jim loved to hike in the snow. "I knew I'd always want to do it again. That once would never be enough." he shrugged and continued. "But sometimes I look over a cliff like this one and I wish...I wish that a man could fly. Not in a plane, or even an ultralight...just step off and go."

"I dream of flying sometimes." Jim answered. "It's weird. There's always someone else with me, someone I can't see. But it's okay, they're supposed to be there. It's not that I can't fly without them, but it's just easier with them."

"Dreams of flying are the most powerful. Some people go their whole lives without ever having one."

"Do you have them?"

"Yeah." Blair stopped and looked over the edge again. Jim heard the wistful note in his voice. "That's why I want it so bad."

 

They reached the top a bit later than they had planned. Sitting on a large boulder that jutted from the snow like wide- spread hand, they ate their sandwiches and drank the coffee, still hot in the thermos.

The valley rolled out beneath them like a hidden land out of a fairy tale, a haze of snow-laden clouds hovering over it.

Jim sniffed the air.

"Anything interesting?" Blair asked lazily, laying back. The rock was almost warm, the sun beating down on it creating this paradox in the middle of the snow bank. He pillowed his head on his pack and closed his eyes, trying to hear what Jim heard.

"Hmmmm...." Jim concentrated. He didn't mind these impromptu testing sessions because they were usually conducted someplace he wanted to be. "There's a den of rabbits nearby...a deer passed by here recently...and I think I can smell the beginning of a storm."

"Really?" Blair didn't move, but his interest was piqued. "How do you know?"

"There's a - heaviness. A weight to the air. Like it's thicker than it should be. I've noticed it before, but this is the first time I've made the connection."

"Cool. How soon?"

Jim focused on that sensation...it was really a combination of all senses - taste, touch, smell, hearing, scent. He could smell it, hear it in the wind, feel it on his skin...but had no way to measure it.

"I think I'm going to have to practice some before I become a barometer." he laughed softly. Blair answered the laugh with his own.

They watched the clouds move sluggishly. After a while the wind picked up and Blair shivered. Sensitive to him, Jim stood and offered a hand, pulling him to his feet.

"You really are warm-natured, aren't you."

"Why do you think I never studied the Inuit?" he couldn't tell if Blair was grinning with that scarf over his face, but his eyes were.

"A primitive, isolated tribe? I can't believe you haven't." Jim teased as they took a last look.

They hadn't brought a camera. Both felt that moments like these were best preserved in memory, to be refreshed in person whenever they began to fade.

So they took the time to lock it into their minds. Blair knew that for Jim that meant memorizing the sounds and scents and taste of the place as well as the view, much more so than it did for him, but he'd get by with his own normal, basic senses.

Then began the long trek back to the camp site.

Blair found himself shivering again and stopped to look at the sky. Jim stopped beside him, joining the survey.

"Is it me, or is it getting colder?" Blair wrapped his arms around himself.

"It's getting colder." Jim looked just the slightest bit worried. "And darker, too."

"Guess you really aren't a barometer." Blair teased as they started walking again, faster now. "That storm's gonna be here soon."

"Forecast predicted that it would be clear until Thursday." Jim definitely sounded worried now.

"Have you ever known a weather man to be right?" it was a rhetorical question. Jim didn't bother answering it.

 

The wind blew in suddenly, harsh, bitingly cold, carrying ice particles that bit into exposed skin, what little there was of it, rasping against the mountainside. Jim pulled his scarf up over his face like Blair's, and took the lead, giving his friend some protection from it. Blair didn't protest.

Soon it was snowing thickly.

"I can't see anything!" Blair stopped. He had to speak up for Jim to hear him over the howl. "Can you still see the trail?"

Jim knelt in the snow, closing his eyes, concentrating on the ground beneath his fingers, sifting through the snow. He couldn't feel anything with the heavy gloves on, so he peeled one off and dug, fingers searching for any indication that they were still going the right way.

His hand numbed up almost immediately, and he turned up the sense until he could feel again, compensating for the cold.

He felt rocks, gravel, pebbles, then hard-packed dirt, all beneath a layer of snow much lighter than that on either side of it.

"We're still on it." he shouted back so Blair could hear him. "How much farther do you think it is?"

"A mile? Two? I've lost track."

"We'd better hurry." Jim stuffed his cold-clumsy hand back into the glove and stuck it inside his coat, next to his shirt. The swift pins-and-needles pain of returning circulation was strong, and he was relieved that he could turn the sense back so low that he didn't have to feel it.

He felt a hand on his back. Reaching back he took it and hooked the fingers through his belt, so Blair could follow him. The snow was so thick he was having trouble seeing in it, he knew Blair was blind.

Even his sight wasn't enough to cope with it. He had to stare straight ahead to make out anything in the swirling grey/white, just trying to stay on the trail and avoid major obstacles, like trees. The dip in the trail, where it went around a turn, took him by surprise, hidden as it was by the new snow that filled it. His feet hit an ice patch and went right out from under him.

The trail was very narrow here, the cliff rising almost directly next to them...there was nowhere for Jim to fall but down.

He thought he heard Blair scream...he was grabbing desperately for a purchase as he felt himself go over...and then there was a tremendous yank and his fall stopped, his upper body hanging over the side, lower legs splayed in the snow, Blair's grip on his belt the only thing keeping him from his death.

Another hand grabbed his shoulder, pulled, and he heard Blair's second scream, misunderstood it. He scrambled for a handhold, found one, pushed himself back up as Blair continued to pull.

He rolled to his side and then onto his back, lying in the snow gasping, then turning to Blair, who was sitting just to the side if him.

The scent of sweat was so out of place in this setting that he couldn't miss it. Blair smelled strongly of sweat and fear and adrenaline. Jim sat and reached for him, meaning to thank him, but Blair flinched violently.

Jim got close enough to stare, an inch from Blair's face.

"What's wrong?" he could see from Blair's posture that something was.

"Hurt my shoulder." Blair hissed the words between clenched teeth.

"I'll look at it when we get to camp." Jim stood, leaned down and lifted him with a hand under the other arm. Blair shuddered when he touched him but climbed laboriously to his feet. "It shouldn't be much farther - I remember this spot."

Blair just nodded. He was cradling the injured arm with the other. Jim went to his side, put an arm around his waist to guide him.

He could hear Blair's erratic heartbeat and wondered how badly he was hurt.

The tent was only a spot of color, but it stood out in the whiteness like a beacon. Jim got Blair into it and lit the lantern first thing, then set him on his sleeping bag, turning on the little heater.

He sat, tired and worried, looking Blair over.

He looked pale and shocky.

"How badly are you hurt?" they could speak in almost normal tones now.

"I'm not sure. When I caught you...something tore in the joint. Dislocated or just pulled, I don't know. It hurts like nothing I've ever felt before." Blair wasn't embarrassed to admit this. "So what are we going to do? Even you can't drive us down in this."

"We'll have to wait until the storm blows out. We have some food and there's always snow for water, and we have the heater..."

The tent swayed with the force of the wind, threatening to collapse onto them.

"But I think we should move into the truck, just in case." Jim dredged up a grin that Blair returned, faintly.

He helped Blair out to the truck. It was obvious that every movement pained the smaller man.

"You sit here and I'll get things moved." he told him. Blair didn't object.

The first thing he brought was Blair's sleeping bag. The interior of the truck was frigid and Blair's teeth were chattering. Jim wrapped it around him and Blair smiled gratefully.

The wind was so strong that Jim could only carry one or two things each trip, so it seemed to take forever. After he got both sleeping bags in Blair climbed into the back and spread them out, Jim moving the toolchest to the seat, trying to make the cramped space comfortable.

The icechest went on the seat with the toolchest. The heater Blair put at the very end of the truckbed, setting it up on an old cinderblock that Jim used occasionally as a tire-stop.

There was an old blanket back there, too. Blair spread it under the sleeping bags for insulation.

By the time Jim had everything in except the tent Blair had the space as comfortable as it was going to get. Jim climbed in, hung the lantern from the light fixture and then turned off the interior lights, wanting to save the battery.

Blair still looked pale, but the shakiness that had worried Jim was gone.

"Okay, Chief." he sat facing him on the sleeping bags, his wet shoes left on the floor in the front beside Blair's. "Let's have a look at that shoulder."

It wasn't warm, but bearable.

"I'm gonna get out of these wet things first." Jim decided, stripping off his outer coat and hanging it over the toolchest. Then, on second thought, he hooked the sleeves to the clothing hooks and strung it up over the window instead. "Maybe it'll provide some insulation."

He was wearing a heavy grey sweatshirt over a t-shirt and jeans, all of it over longjohns and two pairs of socks.

"Okay." he unwrapped Blair's scarf, hanging it over the slung coat, then carefully unzipped the younger man's heavy parka.

Blair was still holding the arm close to his side. Jim gently pulled it out enough to let him start working the sleeve off and Blair couldn't restrain a shriek. Jim let go.

Blair grit his teeth.

"I can handle it. Go ahead."

"I don't want to hurt you." Jim protested. "Wait, let me find something..." he leaned over the seat and dug in his pack, coming up with an all-purpose knife. Blair knew it was the one he'd carried during his lost days in Peru.

"Shit, Jim, this is a new coat." Blair grumbled as the larger man sat next to him and carefully slit the sleeve from wrist to shoulder and then cut the entire thing off him.

"I'll get you a new one for your birthday." Jim repeated the process with the sweater and flannel shirt. When he got to the t- shirt layer he delicately cut the sleeve off so he could see the damage. "Shit, Blair."

The shoulder was massively swollen, turgid, livid purple. And it hung at the wrong angle.

"How bad is it?" Blair had his eyes closed. Jim could hear him struggling to control his breathing around the pain.

"It's definitely dislocated." Jim couldn't believe that Blair had held onto him. He had let his arm be pulled right out of its socket rather than let Jim go. "I'm going to have to put it back in."

"I know." Blair took a deep breath and held it.

"I think you should lie down." Jim helped him maneuver onto his back. He placed a knee on Blair's chest to hold him down, a hand on his shoulder above the joint, and took hold of the arm with the other, high up on the bicep. "Ready?"

"You better turn down your hearing." Blair warned and Jim did. He hadn't thought of that.

"Okay." he said. "I'm going to use traction to straighten it and then move it around until it slides back in. It shouldn't take long."

"Got it." Jim felt Blair tense beneath his hands.

"On the count of three." he really didn't want to do this, he knew it was going to hurt like hell, but it would only get worse until it was fixed.

Blair nodded.

"One." Jim rose up on his knees, hoping the pressure on Blair's chest wouldn't interfere with his breathing. "Two." he felt Blair take a deep breath beneath him and exhale it forcefully. "Three."

Jim pulled steadily, strongly, on the arm. He felt more than heard Blair's scream and was glad he'd reminded him to turn down the hearing, he would have blasted Jim's ears out.

Pull, pull, pullllll...the joint popped and snapped back into the socket with a satisfying click that ran up Jim's arm like an impact.

He carefully set the arm down next to Blair, who was still conscious, staring at him, his blue eyes black pools of pain.

"It's okay. It's done." Jim reached to brush his hair out of his face. Even in the chill of the truck Blair was sweating profusely. "Close your eyes and rest now."

Blair did close his eyes, but to Jim it looked more like he passed out than slept.

*Just as well.* he thought. *I know that hurt worse than it looked and it looked awful.*

He busied himself sticking a hand out to gather snow in the kettle. They didn't have a fire, but maybe if he sat it one the heater he could make some coffee...he turned the heater up, thankful that they had plenty of propane, enough to last a week, if need be. He'd just bought a case and they stored it here rather than cart it into the loft and back out.

The wind howled outside and an occasional gust was strong enough that he felt it pushing against the truck, but he knew they were safe. Blair would be hurting, but he would get him to a doctor as soon as he could...in the meantime, he thought he had some muscle relaxants in the glove compartment, left over from the time he sprained his back....and there was always advil in the first aid kit....and an ace bandage or two so they could bind his arm tightly, if he didn't move it maybe it wouldn't hurt so much...they would be fine.

Jim sighed and removed the pan of water from the heater. He needed sleep more than caffeine just now. Setting it on top of the ice chest on the seat, he lay down beside Blair, and discovered another problem.

There was just barely enough room. He was too tall to stretch out and when he pulled his knees up he bumped the side.

The only way to get even reasonably comfortable was to snuggle very close to Blair.

*Might as well share body heat." he decided, giving in and getting close. But his arm was trapped between his side and Blair's and he knew he would wake when it lost circulation.

After a few seconds' thought he sighed again, and wrapped that arm around Blair, pulling the smaller man's head to his chest, where his long hair tickled the bare skin of Jim's neck.

Blair stirred slightly and mumbled and Jim stroked his head, hoping he wouldn't wake in pain. Blair quieted.

Jim closed his eyes. His back hurt from the scrabble on the cliffside and the hike through the snow. If they were going to be here for a day or two he could at least catch up on his sleep.

 

Blair woke with a whimper, valiantly restraining a louder expression of pain. Instantly Jim was awake beside him, his large hands carefully helping his friend sit, turning up the flame on the lamp to get a good look at him.

The shoulder, still uncovered, was solidly bruised, deep purple and black throbbing from his neck to his ribcage.

Jim touched it tenderly, fingers delicately assessing the situation. He'd never seen an injury like this, didn't know if this was very bad or par for the course. Blair stood it stoically, breath hissing between his teeth until he simply held it in, fine tremors running through his frame.

Sitting back Jim reached for the pan of water. Turning up the heater, he set it on the heater.

"It looks bad, I know it hurts, but I'm pretty sure there's no permanent damage." Jim said quietly. "You'll take some tylenol and then I'll wrap it in a hot towel."

Blair nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He watched while Jim dug into the first aid kit and the ice chest, handing him three extra-strength tylenol and a bottle of orange juice.

His hand fumbled when he lifted the bottle and Jim took it, waiting while Blair threw the tablets to the back of his throat, then handed it to him.

"Okay." Jim said. "Here...let me do this..." he rolled up his own sleeping bag, shifting Blair out of the way, and tucked it behind his back, against the seat, so Blair could recline. "Better?"

"Yeah." his voice was raspy, but the younger man managed a smile for him. "If you ever want to jump off a cliff again, I'm going to let you."

"I'm not like you on that one." Jim smiled. "I think I could only do it once."

He turned the heater up higher, then saw that Blair was squirming.

"You need to...?"

Blair nodded, grimacing.

"Me too." Jim opened the back window a crack. The wind was ecstatic to have found a way in and whistled its happiness as it drove the warmth out. "Maybe if we just put the tail down and sat on it..."

"Better than doing it in here." Blair offered Jim his good arm.

They got the door down flat, leaving the window shut, sliding out on their backs.

The cold stole their breath, and Jim heard Blair's stifled moan of pain. He was trying to unbutton his jeans, but having trouble doing it one-handed and cold.

He covered Blair's hand with is own. He could barely see him, but felt his start.

"I know, it's weird, but let me." he shouted. Blair's response was to take his hand away and lean back.

Jim made quick work of the buttons, his mind carefully ignoring anything it touched, and then turned away as far as he could on the narrow space. Even in the wind his ears caught the sound of falling liquid.

Blair started to hitch himself back and Jim quickly helped him, getting him settled on the bag against the seat before going back to take care of his own business.

Then he shut the door and crawled back up, seeing Blair shivering.

"Can I...?" Jim sat next to him and held out an arm. Blair nodded, teeth chattering, and Jim pulled him close, giving him body heat, careful not to jostle the injured arm too much. "It will be warm in here again soon."

"Wh-wh-what t-time is it?" Blair clamped down on his nerves and got the words out. Jim felt blessedly warm.

"I'm not sure. I was thinking of turning on the radio for a few minutes and trying to find out."

"Maybe there'll be a weather forecast." Blair said, feeling bereft as Jim climbed up on his knees to turn and lean over the front seat, reaching for the keys. "I don't suppose the cel phone will get anything in this."

"Nah." Jim agreed, fiddling with the radio. He only got static for a while, an oddly appropriate echo for the storm outside, and then, faintly, he heard words. "Here...I've got something."

Blair leaned his head back and closed his eyes, listening.

"I can't hear anything."

"Shh."

Jim concentrated.

"It's just after five - a.m. The storm is supposed to blow for at least two more days, maybe three."

"Won't someone miss us before then?"

"I told Simon where we were going - and you told a couple of friends. But there's no way they're going to find us in this."

"Shit." Blair relaxed for just a second and groaned. Jim was back beside him in a flash.

"We'll try the hot wraps and then I'll bind it tight...the less you move it the less it'll hurt."

Blair nodded. He didn't want to tell Jim how bad it hurt, didn't want to look like a wuss, but another glance at his shoulder convinced him that it was justified.

"The cause is sufficient..." he gave a semi-hysterical giggle.

"What?" Jim looked back from the heater, where he was mentally encouraging the water to heat.

"When a Vulcan does something overtly emotional under tremendous stress - like his mate is being tortured or something - it's excused in Vulcan society with that reasoning; the cause is sufficient."

Jim looked back over his shoulder and grinned.

"Blair, you're quoting Star Trek. I think you're delirious."

"Well..." Blair drew the word out with a wheeze of pain, and then a choked snicker. "The cause is sufficient."

Jim's groan was sweet reward.

"How does that feel?" Jim sat back, studying his friend. He was bare-chested now, shirts cut and eased off, lying flat, towels soaked in boiling water and wrung out wrapped around the bruising.

"Better." Blair sighed. "I'm not sure if it's helping the shoulder, but it's nice to be warm." he grinned.

"Can you eat something?"

"As long as I don't have to move."

"I'll feed you." Jim was being so kind.

After spooning a cup of soup into him Jim saw that Blair was tired.

"You may as well sleep. There's not a lot else to do."

"I'm wiped." Blair agreed. "What about you?"

"I'll just lay here and think."

"I packed a few books. One of them's a translation and history of a Navajo legend...when I first heard it I thought it was talking about Sentinels. It took me three years to find this copy."

"And how much did you pay for it?" Jim teased, digging again in the first aid kit, then going back over the seat to rummage through the glove compartment.

"More than you charge me for rent." Blair was watching him.

"I'm going to wrap that tight." Jim said. "It'll probably hurt...remember when I hurt my back? I had some muscle relaxants left over, Naprosyn. I think one might help."

"If you think it's okay." he winced and groaned softly while Jim helped him sit up. Jim manipulated the arm and he couldn't bite back the shout that erupted from him. Jim flinched and Blair panted an apology.

"Sorry, sorry..."

"It's okay. Got it turned down now."

It took long, agonizing minutes for Jim to lay the arm securely against Blair's side and bind it tight.

"Circulation okay?" he scratched the tips of Blair's fingers with his nail.

"Don't care. Let it rot off, I'm not going through that again."

Looking at the younger man's face, seeing the white lines around his mouth and across his forehead, Jim felt a burst of tenderness.

His hand was in the air, and he didn't know why. Hastily he drew it back, patted Blair's knee.

"Try to sleep." he held the juice bottle while Blair took the muscle relaxant.

"You gonna read that book?" Blair lay back gingerly. Jim moved the sleeping bag and spread it out, lying close to his friend, listening to his breathing as he drifted into sleep.

"If I get bored enough." he muttered quietly.

"I heard that." Blair's drowsy comment made Jim smile.

After about thirty minutes of listening to the wind Jim decided that even Blair's book might be better than just lying there.

He had to shift Blair away from him. In his sleep the smaller man proved to be a heat sink, snuggling close to the nearest source and soaking it up. While Jim didn't mind providing the service, he was feeling just a little claustrophobic. It had been a problem in his marriage as well - he could only take so much cuddling, and then he had to move away and re-establish his personal space. Carolyn had hated it when he did that, after sex or in the middle of the night when she got too close.

He just wasn't that kind of person. It was hard for him to let another person get that close and stay there.

He found the book after a brief search in Blair's bag, a search that turned up several more interesting items; condoms, a tube of lubricant, a pair of women's green silk bikini panties.

Feeling foolish, but overwhelmed with curiosity, Jim held them a few inches from his face and sniffed.

*Son of a bitch!* he yanked then away, stared at them and then stuffed them hurriedly back into the bag, right down to the bottom.

He *knew* that scent. Had smelled it just the other day, down in the forensics lab...why in the world was Blair carrying around a pair of Sam's underwear?

He must have slept with her before she dumped him.

The boy was good. Jim had been willing to bet money she was a six-months-and-we'll-see kind of girl. *No wonder she was so pissed when he stood her up. Now I understand why she tried to blow him up.*

Settling back onto the sleeping bag, he felt Blair move as soon as he relaxed, sliding over in his sleep, seeking Jim's warmth.

*Oh well. He saved my life, *again*. It's the least I can do.* Jim reached an arm and gathered Blair close, bringing his head to his shoulder, careful not to touch the sore part.

He felt Blair's sigh as a shiver in his own body.

*That was weird.* he opened the book and began to read.

 

Two hours later he was still reading. The translation was direct, so many of the paragraphs had to be puzzled through and analyzed. But everything Blair had said seemed to be true. The Navajo did recognize the existence of something very similar to Sentinels - most American Indian tribes apparently did, even if they called them something else. The most interesting point he'd read so far about the Navajo legend, though, was the way it tied into two other ancient tribal customs; Contraries, and something Jim could only interpret as 'soulmates'.

Jim knew what a contrary was. A member of the tribe who, for whatever reason, seemed to do things backwards, figuratively and often literally. Many of them spoke in opposites, and remembered the future rather than the past. Male contraries often lived their lives as women, and vice-versa. Modern contraries were often people who just didn't seem to fit anywhere, to act against their own good. The loss of tribal customs had made their lives much more difficult.

It wasn't always a permanent state, many dropped those behavior patterns at some point in their lives, but many kept to them until death.

It was noted that Contraries were more likely to become soulmates to the Navajo Sentinels.

That made Jim stir slightly, suddenly very aware of Blair's weight and warmth next to him.

He read on.

The writer hadn't been drawing conclusions, just delivering information, but Jim understood enough to draw a couple of conclusions of his own.

This said that Navajo Sentinels almost always became 'soulmates' with their contraries - their Guides. Male or female, it didn't matter, as the tribe considered these distinctions less important than the identification as Sentinel and Guide.

This was a little more information than he'd wanted. Jim shifted again, becoming uncomfortable with Blair's presence, so close.

Did Blair think Jim was going to fall in love with him? Did he think they were destined to?

"Damn." he muttered quietly. *What did this mean?* Was Blair trying to tell him something? All that talk about bisexuality being inherent...had he been trying to tell Jim, maybe give him an opening so he could tell Blair something?

*Nah. Blair isn't gay. He chases women like a pro - and he's got the panties to prove it.*

Jim put the book down on his chest for a minute, distracted by the heavy tickle of Blair's hair. He pushed it out of the way and was startled to find that it was very soft, clinging to his fingers with static, like something alive.

*Maybe he's overcompensating?* he considered the thought and pushed it away. Blair *really* liked women. He wasn't faking that.

Jim sighed. He didn't want to read any more.

So he listened to the wind until he slept.

 

Jim woke violently, hearing the crash of shattering glass, an echo in his mind, rolling to his knees, Blair's howl of agony providing harmony to the wind that screamed in.

The lantern was out and the whiteness was as hard to see in as deepest night. Jim fumbled his hands forward, touching the windshield, feeling the icy wetness of the branch the at protruded through it, a spider web of cracks radiating from the hole.

"It's a tree, Chief!" he felt Blair moving to the back to give him room, still gasping in pain. "I'm going to try to patch the glass."

It was hard, digging around in the dark, but there was no way he was going to get the lantern lit in this.

Finally he found it, relieved, a small part of his mind finding a joke in the situation. If he didn't keep his tool box so well-organized they would have been stuck....something to tease Blair about later.

He tore off a strip of duct tape and began covering the hole, taping right around the branch, trying only to block the wind, moving rapidly, trying to get it done before all of their heat was lost.

He was almost done when a fierce gust moved the branch and his hand slipped, sliding swiftly down a jagged edge of crumbled safety glass. It took a second for his brain to register it, and then the pain hit.

"Oh, Fuck!" he shouted, desperately turning down his sense of touch, until it was only a burning ache. Blair came up beside him, worry in his voice.

"What did you do?"

"Cut myself. Pretty bad, I think."

"Damn. Sit down...I'll see if I can get the lantern lit." Blair fiddled with it one-handed. Jim pressed his hand to his thigh, feeling the heat of his own blood as it continued to seep from the wound. "Can't get it." Blair made a frustrated sound.

"I'll turn the wick while you do the match." Jim suggested, reaching out his good hand.

Working together they managed to get it lit. Blair motioned to Jim to keep his hand where it was while he pulled out the first aid kit again.

"Okay. Turn it over." He had the kit open on his lap. A whistle of dismay escaped him when they got their first look at the cut.

It went right across the top of Jim's palm, just under the fingers, and Blair saw bone.

"Aw, fuck, Jim. That needs stitching."

"There're some butterfly strips in there." Jim was pale, but controlled.

"I'm not sure I can get them on." Blair dug out the box. "Shouldn't we clean it first?"

"Go ahead." Jim clenched his teeth - though he could barely feel it, just looking at it made it worse.

Blair gently bathed the wound with hydrogen peroxide and squeezed a liberal amount of antibiotic salve into it. Then he opened a dozen of the little bandages and laid them out in a row on Jim's thigh.

"You hold them and I'll position them."

Jim nodded.

It took almost an hour to get the cut closed with the pseudo-stitches, working with one hand each. Jim was feeling better by then.

"I suppose you would have used ants." he teased when Blair had everything packed away again.

"That's rainforest thing, Big Guy." Blair stuck the kettle out the window to gather more snow. "You hungry?"

"Not really. I think my body's in rebellion."

"Mine too." Blair sat back down. There was still a trickle of cold air coming in through the crack. "Should we finish that?"

"It'll get pretty cold if we don't." Jim said. "But it can wait a few minutes."

"Uh-huh." Blair agreed, settling back down with a wince.

"How's the shoulder?"

"I think it feels worse, if that's possible." he grimaced.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you out of the way like that."

"Yes you did. And I'm grateful. I'd rather it hurt worse than be impaled on an errant evergreen."

"There is that."

They sat in silence until Blair tested the water and found it hot.

"I think some hot chocolate would be good now." he pulled several envelopes out of the dry goods, and grabbed the two large thermal mugs they used.

"You hate that instant stuff."

"I'm too cold to taste it." Blair mixed it up awkwardly, handing Jim his and sipping his own with a sigh of relief at the warmth. "I have never been so cold."

"I guess so, if you're drinking that and not complaining."

"Hush. I'm expanding my culinary horizons." Blair sipped and tried not to think about his shoulder. "How's the hand?"

"Throbbing. I've got it turned way down, but I don't know how safe that is or how long I can do it."

"There's a test I hadn't considered." Blair said. Then Jim gave him a hard look and he grinned. "Well, not seriously."

"It's an interesting dilemma." Jim was thoughtful. "If I can keep the sense turned off and not feel the pain, is it a character statement if I do? Especially when you're hurt worse and don't have that option."

"Watching you hurt with me is not going to make me feel any better." Blair stressed the words.

"I've never been one to watch a friend hurting and not suffer along with them." Jim grinned. But Blair changed the tone of the conversation with his next words.

"You know, Jim, you're the only real friend I've ever had."

Jim was startled into several long minutes of silence.

"You've got tons of friends, Blair. There are always people around you...you attract them like flies to honey."

"But none of them are really my *friends*, man." Blair shrugged. "A couple of them come close...I can talk to them about some things...but there's no one that I can tell everything."

"Blair, you barely tell me *anything*." Jim sighed and flexed the hand slightly, wondering at the lack of pain. His mind knew it should hurt and tried to find a sensation to substitute. "That's weird. It's like my mind is trying to make me do something that will make it hurt."

"That wouldn't seem to be a survival reaction." Blair looked curious, but stuck to the subject. "It's not that I do tell you everything, Jim, it's that I know I can. You may rant and rave, but in the end you'll always come down squarely on my side. I trust you."

"You know I trust you." Jim watched Blair's face, looking for clues to what he was thinking. "It's not just trusting you with my life. I trust you with my secrets. Things that could be used against me."

"That's why I can trust you." Blair said softly. "Because you trusted me first. That's never happened before."

"Never?" the thought made Jim a little sad and Blair heard it.

"A life like mine doesn't lend itself to the formation of long-term friendships." he shook his head slightly, letting his hair fall into his eyes. "I have good friends...people who will drag out of bed at two o'clock in the morning to bail me out if I call them...but they've never known all of me. They only know the parts they like, because those are the only parts they see." he smiled now and his smile was sad. "If I have any gift, it's that when people look at me they only see what they want to."

*What brought this on?* Jim wondered. Blair sounded melancholy...that just wasn't like him.

*Now I'm doing it.* he suddenly understood what Blair meant. His surface persona was so appealing, so full of life and optimism and energy, a person didn't want to look beneath it. So they didn't. And by refusing to see all of him they prevented themselves from knowing him. They lost that opportunity.

But Jim had seen all of him at various times. Happy, angry, sad, depressed, forlorn, frightened...Blair was far more complicated than people gave him credit for.

"You want to talk about it?" he knew the offer was a few minutes late...but he also knew that Blair would forgive that.

"Yeah." the younger man nodded, and closed his eyes, focusing inward. "It's like what I was talking about this afternoon - yesterday? The flying. I've never been in love, Jim. I don't mean lust, I'm talking head-over-heels, all-or-nothing, can't-live-without-you, till-the-day-I-die love. I've seen it, I've read about it, and I've wanted it to happen. But it doesn't. Sometimes I'll watch a movie and it's so perfect...it almost makes me cry. For what I've never had." he paused and opened his eyes, looking into Jim's.

Jim met them.

"Have you ever loved anyone like that?"

"I thought I did."

"Carolyn?"

Jim nodded.

"But in the end it wasn't enough. Or she didn't love me that way. I don't know. Maybe that kind of feeling is too extreme to maintain."

"That's a sad thought." Blair took Jim's empty mug and set both of them on the ice chest, leaning back, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Here. I'll be a pillow." Jim stretched his legs out and Blair curled up on his good side with a sigh, his head on Jim's thigh.

"Thanks."

"You should take some more pain-killer."

"It'll knock me out. I want to stay awake for a while. I don't get to talk much - about personal stuff -" he added as Jim grinned.

"I like talking to you."

"Sometimes I feel like I have to mock the concept of true love. Because if I believe in it and I can't find it, that means there's something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you, Chief. You just haven't found it yet."

"But will I be brave enough to take it if I do?"

"I don't think you'll have a choice."

"There's always a choice. It's just that sometimes the alternative is *so* bad it seems like no choice at all."

"What about being my Guide? Was that a choice?"

Blair shifted minutely. Jim lay a hand on his back, soothing as he winced.

"I could have walked away. You almost did. It would have meant going through the rest of our lives incomplete, but either of us could have done it. People do it all the time."

"Give me an example." Jim wasn't disagreeing with him, just debating. "How would that have made you feel?"

"An example? Okay. Ummm - a woman who wants children but can't have them. For whatever reason. Say she's diabetic and they won't let her adopt...but this is a woman who knows she was meant to be a mother. She can feel it, it calls to her. She'll go through her life always missing that, never feeling whole. Maybe she'll be a favorite aunt or get involved in a nurturing profession, but that will actually make it worse. Being so close and not able to take that last step."

"Whew." Jim exhaled.

"Yeah."

"If I found love, I could turn my back on it. Trust is hard for me -" Jim grinned ruefully and rubbed his back a little. "- I could choose the lesser pain."

"Lesser pain?"

"The pain of never having loved is always less than loving and losing." Blair sighed.

"I don't think so, Chief." Jim said quietly. "I know you. If you ever fall in love you'll embrace it with the same enthusiasm you give everything. It's in your nature. And I'll be around to remind you."

Blair turned his head carefully, smiled up at him.

"Thanks, big guy."

 

They sat in silence, listening to the storm outside. Blair spoke at last.

"It's really blowing out there."

"I'm sure the tent is long gone."

"Thank god for four wheel drive."

"Which one?" Jim was teasing and got a grin for it.

"Hmmmm. I don't think there *is* a god assigned to automobiles. But there's a patron saint of travelers."

"Good enough. That's who we thank for our survival this time."

"I think we're racking up a lot of candles here, big guy." Blair closed his eyes and sighed. Jim felt the warmth and faint moisture through his jeans.

"I was reading that book." he said, wondering what kind of reaction that would get.

"What did you think?" a perfectly normal response in every respect.

"It was interesting...especially the conclusions he drew in some areas."

"You're talking about the soulmates thing."

"That *was* interesting, but I was meaning more the prevalence of alternative relationships." Jim said it with a straight face.

Blair opened his eyes and stared.

"Come on, Jim. You didn't think I was trying to tell you something." he said in disbelief.

"Nah. It just made me wonder. What would we do if that did happen? What if one of us developed *that* kind of feelings for the other?"

Blair was silent for long minutes, but when he answered his voice was steady.

"Would that be such a bad thing?" he continued before Jim had a chance to reply. "We already have a close relationship. I think we're meant to stay together, a lifelong commitment."

"I know that." Jim shifted, stretching to reach the ice chest. "Since you don't want to take anything, maybe a beer would be good." he pulled out a sixpack and set them down. His eyes made it clear that he wanted to change the subject.

"Good idea, man." Blair agreed to both.

The both laughed when they realized that neither one of them could get a bottle open. They had to do it together, one hand each.

They drank in silence. After the first one Jim got up and finished taping the window.

Then they lay back down, Blair shivering a little, and got the heater going on high.

Two beers and Jim felt brave enough to ask.

"So you don't think it would be a bad thing?"

"Haven't you ever had sex with someone just because you were friends?"

"No, never."

"Huh."

"You have?"

"Well, yeah. Not often. I've had a couple of friends I could share that with. In some ways it's better than sex with someone you love in a romantic sense."

"How?" Jim sounded startled.

Blair drank carefully, sucking the mouth of the bottle into his mouth so he wouldn't dribble, drinking at an odd angle like he was.

"There're no expectations. You can talk about if beforehand with less pressure. You can tell a friend things you might not want to tell a lover right away."

"That's weird, Blair."

 

They got to the next sixpack.

"Jesus, Jim, how much beer did you bring?"

"Enough to get really wasted at least once." Jim answered. "That was the plan."

"Well, here's your chance." Blair lifted his fourth bottle and they tipped them together. "To storms."

"Storms." Jim shook his head, but drank.

"You buzzed yet?" Blair asked cheerfully.

"Getting there."

"Then it's safe to ask this now. You ever had sex with a man?"

Jim spluttered a swallow, some of it escaping to dribble down his chin.

"Hey!" Blair objected as it dripped on his face.

"*No*." Jim sputtered. "Have you?"

"Not really...I kissed a man once. We were drunk and horny and alone - I just leaned over and kissed him."

"So what happened?"

"We decided that if we were starting to look good to each other it was time to get out of the library."

Jim chuckled along with him.

"I've never wanted a man. Looked at him and thought 'I wonder what he'd be like in bed'."

"You do that with women?" Jim teased.

"And I usually find out."

"So what's with the panties?"

Blair looked momentarily confused. "Oh! Sam's...I was going to give them back...but she made some crack about me being the type to keep trophies, so I decided not to."

"Do you collect trophies?"

"Come on, Jim. I'm a gentleman."

A fifth beer. They were both starting to sound a little loopy.

"I wonder what it would be like." Blair was muttering now, Jim had to turn up his hearing to catch what he was saying.

"What?"

"Well, what we would do...that's not the first thing I've read that implies that Sentinels and Guides have a stronger connection than we might want to think."

"Are you staying we should start sleeping together?"

"I'm saying we might want to some day. How are you gonna react to that?"

"I don't think that's gonna happen, Chief." Jim shook his head.

"Think we'd like it? Could this change us that much?"

Jim wasn't smiling anymore.

"If it happens, it happens. We'll deal with it."

"Yeah." Blair agreed, but Jim heard something else in his voice. "I think I'll take that medicine now. My shoulder is killing me."

Jim silently got up and gave him the tablets, the tucked him up warm so he could sleep.

"How's your hand?" Blair asked, already getting sleepy.

Jim concentrated briefly.

"Not bad. I've been turning it back up for the last hour."

"But we know alcohol can interfere with your senses."

"It's fine, Chief. Feels just like it always does when I'm plastered."

"You aren't plastered." Blair sighed, closing his eyes.

Opening another bottle with his teeth, Jim watched his friend sleeping, feeling his warmth on his body.

"I will be." he said.

 

He was floating....and his arms spread, and then he was soaring.

Wind brushed his face and buildings passed beneath him.

He landed in a park, began to walk, the grass cool under his feet, the earth sensing him and yielding to him.

The warm breeze caressed his body. He felt a laugh bubble up from his lungs. He'd never told his friend that when he dreamed of flying, he was always naked.

He walked through a field of images....loving couples, scenes from movies...they gradually rose from the ground and he rose with them, until he was past all of them and floating in midair again.

Tears rolled down his face, tears of joy mingling freely with the essence of sorrow.

He flew on through the night, wanting only to feel this, to stay in this place as long as he could.

Jim woke. The truck was warm and his hand wasn't hurting too badly...what had woken him?

He was suddenly aware of the warm weight of Blair pressed against him, a leg thrown over his.

There was a tiny bit of light making it's way through the storm outside the windows. Enough to see the smile and the tears on Blair's face.

Jim studied him.

There was no question that Blair was beautiful. There was something about him, something that didn't fit...but somehow did.

Occasionally Jim found himself sneaking glances at him when they were at home or working. Just to catch an expression on his face, to study him unawares.

Most of the time he just looked like Blair. But - every once in a while - if the light was just right - he morphed into something or someone completely different.

Someone unknown, exotic, beautiful.

There was a knot of fear in Jim's stomach that he didn't want to acknowledge.

What if Blair was right?

What if it had already started?

Jim closed his eyes in brief pain.

*I am not a homosexual* he thought sternly.

*What would I do if I were?*

That thought made him more nervous.

"I'll prove it." he muttered. "I can touch him...kiss him...and it won't mean anything to me."

Blair stirred at the words, but slept on.

 

Strong fingers were rubbing his head. It felt good. Blair rolled his neck to get them on the other side and sighed.

The wind was still loud. It was like the white-noise generators he's found for Jim...

Jim?

Coherent thought flooded his brain, accompanied by the ever- present pain of his shoulder.

*Who's touching me?* he'd barely had time to register the question in his mind when the sensation changed. Strong hands slid from is head to the back of his neck, calloused fingers digging into sore muscles.

Warm breath in his hair.

*What the fuck?*

Blair turned, slowly, unable to lie on the other side because of the shoulder, and opened his eyes.

Jim was staring down at him. His hands had slid as Blair turned and were now settled on his collarbones.

"Uh, Jim? What're you doing?"

"Testing a hypothesis." Jim leaned close and Blair felt his breath on his cheek, warm, smelling of chocolate.

"Jim..." Blair was hesitant.

"I'm going to kiss you, Chief. Just like I'd kiss a woman. Are you going to stop me?"

Blair's eyes widened so dramatically Jim was hard-pressed to not laugh.

"Uh...Uh..Jim, man, it's just a *theory*, dude, like,..oh, man...." Blair's incoherent reply was cut off as Jim leaned closer, his lips brushing Blair's.

"Don't I get to choose the tests once on a while?" Jim carefully pulled Blair up to him, wrapped his arms around him.

"Jim..I don't know what's gotten into you tonight, but you have *got* to think about this." Blair didn't struggle, he knew it would be fruitless under the circumstances.

"It's not a big deal...." Jim closed his eyes and his voice dropped. "I was watching you sleep and thinking about what you said and what the books say and wondering...and I'm bored, so I thought I'd test it out."

"You're *bored*?" Blair almost shrieked. "You're bored so you decide to seduce me? Your best friend? A guy?!"

Jim rested a hand on Blair's chest, the thin t-shirt no barrier to his touch. He felt Blair's heart speed up and the heat gather beneath his gently stroking fingers.

"It's like stepping off that cliff, Blair. Just once and we'll never regret it."

"And we'll never do it again." Blair was relaxing into his embrace, almost unwillingly. "Why does this feel so normal?"

"Maybe it's what our spirits want, even if our bodies aren't sure."

Blair felt Jim's lips as they traveled down his head. Instinctively he tilted his head, offering his throat. Jim's low chuckle made a lick of desire curl in his belly.

"I always wanted to fly." it was safe to admit that. Here. Now.

"You've always flown with me in my dreams." Jim whispered, shifting and lying Blair back gently. "Let's see how well we do on the ground."

With swift, practical movements he stripped Blair's body, the remaining t-shirt giving way to a hard yank and ripping cleanly down the front.

Blair stared, stunned. Jim sat back and admired him.

Blair was too astonished to be embarrassed. Even when Jim reached out and delicately circled a nipple with a finger, he could only stare, aware of his own breathing, loud in his ears.

"I know what women see when they look at you." Jim whispered, that one finger tracing the planes and angles of Blair chest, shoulders and stomach. "They see the beauty...like a renaissance painting. But they don't see the strength, or the masculinity." Jim's hand stopped just above Blair's genitals, where his doubt was obvious. "There's a special beauty in that."

"Who are you and what have you done with my Jim?" Blair tried to make his words a joke, but they faltered when Jim looked at him.

This *was* his Jim. The same quietly irritated strength shown from those eyes, the same quirk to his mouth. But there was a softness to it now that Blair had never seen before. He doubted anyone had.

"Jim..." Blair managed to whisper before his friend lowered his head and began nuzzling into his pubic hair, scenting deeply. "Oh, shit. What the fuck is going on here?" he rested a hand on Jim's head, the short spiky hair surprisingly soft...he meant to push him away, but Jim had took Blair's soft dick into his mouth and sucked it.

"Jim!" Blair gasped, shocked.

But he didn't move his hand. He even began caressing the silky hair...and then it wasn't far to stroking the broad shoulders that he'd leaned upon so many times.

He was getting hard in Jim's mouth. He felt the movement as Jim smiled around him and then gasped again when Jim pulled back and sat up.

He let his hand fall to the floor.

Jim rested his hands on his thighs, and sat back on his knees, looking at Blair, trying to meet his eyes.

Blair resisted at first, not wanting to see what he feared in those eyes he knew as well as his own... but Jim was patient, and sure.

"I'm not gay." Jim said when Blair finally lifted his eyes to lock them on his. "And neither are you. I want to do this - just this once - to see what it does to us."

"What if we hate it? Will it make us hate each other?" Blair didn't speak his real worry. *What if we like it?*

Jim raised one finger.

"No questions. No doubts. Just step off the cliff and trust."

He reached and tilted Blair's face with that finger.

"No regrets." he said it seriously, and Blair realized that it was a question. It was his decision.

He took the time to think it through. Jim waited, still patient, only that finger touching him.

"Jim..." Blair's whisper was husky and he swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "We'll step off together?"

"Together, Blair." Jim's voice was just as rough. Emotions neither of them recognized as their own flowed from them, swirling around them in clouds that they could almost see.

"On three?" there was a hint of laughter in Blair's voice, a recovery of self.

"One." Jim said, pulling his hand back and moving closer, to loom over Blair.

"Two." Blair lay back down, careful of his shoulder, which didn't seem to hurt as much now.

"Three." the word was barely out of Jim's mouth before he was kissing Blair, one hand tangling in the thick hair. Their eyes closed together.

After several long minutes Blair opened his mouth and invited Jim in.

"You taste good." Jim murmured.

"You taste like beer...and chocolate." Blair sounded just a little clinical.

"Mmm-hmm." Jim lifted his leg to straddle the smaller man. Blair didn't even flinch.

Jim lay down, very careful to keep his weight off Blair and that shoulder. The throbbing in his hand had died down to nothing.

He left Blair's mouth, moved to his shoulders. He could feel Blair's erection digging into his thigh, knew Blair could feel his on his stomach. Blair's hands slid under his shirt and caressed him and he groaned.

"You have wonderful hands...I've noticed them before...so quick, clever, just like you."

"I've seen you walking around without a shirt..and sometimes...once in a while...I've wanted to just reach out and do *this*" Blair stroked across heavy pecs. "Just to see what it feels like."

"What does it feel like?" Jim groaned.

"Hot velvet over steel." Blair whispered against his skin, pushing Jim's shirt up and tasting that flesh. Jim sat, and pulled it over his head, throwing it into the front seat. Getting out of his jeans was a little more work in the confined space, but he managed them, too.

Then he lay gently back on top of Blair and they felt their dicks align for the first time.

"You fit." Blair sounded surprised. "Not the way a woman would..."

"But we fit together." Jim agreed, beginning to move slowly. The friction was delicious. "Oh, Blair."

"Jim...." it was quickly obvious that their bodies were vigorously in favor of this and the heat built with astonishing speed.

The rhythm was there, instinctive, natural, perfect.

Blair pulled Jim tighter to him with his good arm and opened his mouth, searching for Jim's.

Their lips sealed and they shuddered together, their seed mixing on their bellies and chests.

Jim rolled to the side, taking Blair with him, still mindful of the injury, and they lay still, exhausted, sated.

Finally Blair's voice broke the silence that wasn't really silence...the wind still blew outside, but they couldn't hear it over the beating of their hearts.

"Have we landed yet?"

Jim pulled him closer, settling Blair's head on his bare chest, kissing the top of it.

"We can fly as long as the winds let us."

Blair sighed and closed his eyes, hugging Jim one-armed, their skin seeming to melt where it touched.

They dreamed they were asleep, dreaming of flying.

 

epilogue
 

"The two of you mange to get into more trouble." Simon grumbled. He'd been the first to reach them, riding in a mountain rescue vehicle. The truck wasn't going anywhere under it's own power, that tree had smashed into the radiator and left a huge dent in the hood. The tow truck would get it as soon as it could.

Blair was loaded up in the jeep, Jim climbing in after him.

"So, Ellison, how did you survive three days alone with Sandburg?"

"It wasn't so bad, Simon." Jim grinned at Blair where the captain couldn't see him. Though his expression was cheerful his eyes were serious. "We learned how to fly."

Simon grunted and gave him a strange look. The jeep started up and Blair winced as they jostled their way back down the mountain.

Jim sat close to him, giving him something softer to bounce off, steadying him with a hand.

"We did fly, didn't we?" Blair's eyes were calm, serene.

"And I have no regrets." Jim met those eyes with his own.

Just for a second Blair thought Jim was going to kiss him. Instead he smiled a little smile and sat back, still partially supporting Blair.

"So we must have landed."

Blair met the smile with one of his own. It stayed on his face until he was unloaded at the hospital, where he and Jim were separated again, by more than space.

 

                               saraid@wf.net