Ellison looked at Blair quizzically. "So? So, what?"

Keeping his eyes on the road, Blair chuckled. "Our names. That's what. We agreed to select names for each other, remember? I think it's time to reveal our picks."

"Why not wait until we're ready to tell Ink? Let it be a surprise," Jim said with no trace of emotion.

Blair glanced at him with raised brows. "Yeah, but... " He hesitated, seemingly at a loss for words. "What's the matter, Chief? Afraid you won't like my idea for your new name?" Jim turned to him with a hurt expression. "Don't you trust me?"

"Sure, man," Blair said at once. "It's not that. I just thought... I mean, what if... "

Jim could keep up the façade no longer and chuckled aloud. "Forget it, Sandburg. I was just tugging on your chain a bit. It won't hurt my feelings if you don't like my choice for your new name. Who goes first?"

"I will," the younger man offered eagerly. "First, hear me out, okay? I want to explain my reasoning here." When Jim nodded agreement, he went on. "I tried to think about the characteristics that most defined you. Of course, your senses come to mind first. Of what an unique experience it's been watching you learn to control them, to overcome your uncertainty about what you could do with them." He glanced over at Jim with a shy smile. Even with his ease with words, giving such heartfelt compliments wasn't easy for Blair. "Then, I thought of your courage and honor. Of how you never back away from a challenge. Never give up, even in the face of impossible odds. How you always put other people first and how the mission of your life is all about helping others."

"Sounds like you're gonna name me 'Mother Theresa'," Jim quipped, but the look in his eyes belied the lightness of his words. He added softly, "Thanks, Chief."

Acknowledging the words with a nod, Blair shook his head. "Not Mother Teresa, Jim. You're not quite that saintly." He laughed when Ellison's hand connected with the back of his head with a gentle swat. "There was only one person I could think of who had to deal with similar problems, although kind of on the opposite end of the spectrum from you."

Jim asked, "Who would that be? Other than Alex, I don't know any other Sentinels' names. I sure as hell am not gonna become a Barnes, Sandburg."

Blair shivered, chilled at the reminder of his drowning and the woman responsible. "Believe me, I wouldn't want you to have that name, man. Talk about dredging up bad memories. How about Keller? As in Helen Keller? I mean, she was robbed of her main senses - sight and hearing - yet she had the courage to learn to live without them. She had to learn to make the most of the senses she had left - to control them to the utmost - in order to survive. She wrote books and made speeches about living life to the fullest, trying to help others the best way she knew how, when she so easily could have been centered only on herself. Control. Courage. Selflessness." Unsure how his Sentinel would accept his analogy, Blair looked over at Jim warily. "That's you, man."

For a long minute, Jim didn't respond. From the look on his face, Blair could tell he was thinking over everything he'd said, but he couldn't get a read on Jim's reaction. Finally, the older man nodded slowly as he mused, "James Joseph Keller. Jim Keller." He turned to Blair with a satisfied smile. "That's good, Chief. I can live with that. It's quite a compliment, too. Thank you."

Time hung comfortably without words between them, and Blair was in no hurry to break the easy mood. Several minutes passed before Jim turned back to Blair and asked, "Don't you want to know about you?"

Chuckling, Blair replied, "Sure. Just wanted you to have time to mull over your new identity before getting into mine. So, just what will my new identity be?"

"Well," Jim began, "you explained your reasoning to me, so it's only right that I tell you why I chose the name I did." He turned slightly in his seat to face Blair. "I guess I had the same idea - to find a name that suited you. I wanted it to be something science-related, but I knew Burton was out. Brackett might very well think of that one himself since he's read your early research." Jim paused for a long moment, then asked, "How do you like the name 'Hawking'?"

It took Blair a moment to make the connection, then he still wasn't sure he got the connection Jim had made. "As in Stephen Hawking, the physicist?"

"Got it in one, Chief."

"I'm a little lost, here, man. Sure, he's a scientist, but why Hawking?"

A self-conscious smile teased the corners of Jim's mouth. "I read once that some people consider him as brilliant as Einstein, maybe even more so, and you're the smartest guy I've ever known, Chief. I figured Einstein worked better as a nickname, though. Also, I admire Hawking. I mean, even with all his challenges, he's never given up. He keeps working - writing, teaching, thinking. He's not a quitter." Jim's eyes held more than a hint of admiration as he gazed steadily at Blair. "Neither are you. I've never known you to give up, even when you were scared and the odds were against you. I admire that in you, Sandburg. So, I figured his name would be a good choice for you."

Blair savored the warmth that filled his heart. Jim admired him. Amazing. "Blair Hawking. Yeah, that's all right. I could get used to it." He turned to smile at Jim. "Thanks, man. I appreciate that." He leaned over and glanced at his reflection for an instant in the rear view mirror. "New hair, new name, new life. Lots of changes, buddy."

"And a Sentinel with no senses," Jim commented dryly.

Blair flipped on the radio. "That's coming up, I promise. Soon as we get this ID business underway and find a new home for your truck, that's the first item on my agenda." He found a station he liked and began to hum with the syncopated melody.

Grimacing, Jim flipped the radio to a classic oldies station and shot Blair a stern look of warning. "Still my truck, Junior, and therefore, my radio." Settling back in his seat, he asked softly, "Are you sure they'll come back? What if they're... too fried... to recover? Any documentation of that in Burton's research?"

"None," Blair replied firmly. "We'll get 'em back, Jim. Just be patient, okay?" He hesitated, then added, "With yourself and with me. Remember, I'm flying blind here, man. We'll work this out, but you've gotta hang in there. Like in the old days, before you got control." His memory flashed back to the 'old' Jim - impatient, brittle, demanding - and he rephrased his last statement. "Well, maybe not exactly like the old days, okay? No Guide slamming. No test avoidance. No griping and complaining."

Jim's expression was one of pained disbelief. "Who? Me?" The studied look dissolved into a broad grin as Ellison turned up the volume on the radio. "One good thing about having normal senses, Chief. I can let down my guard and listen to Creedence at full volume."

Blair sighed and glanced over at his partner, nodding in time with the music. "Great," he muttered under his breath with a tiny, tolerant smile. "Just fantastic."

Jim stood to the side of the photographer's studio as Blair posed for his photos. His had already been snapped, and now, he had nothing to do but watch his partner.

His suddenly unfamiliar partner.

Blair was relaxed before the camera, joking and flirting with the attractive young photographer who was totally captivated by his charm. The short curls danced atop Sandburg's head, setting off his dancing eyes with frames of chestnut and coaxing from them an even deeper shade of blue. To look at him, no one would suspect he had a care in the world.

*Who are you, Chief?*

One-fourth con-man, to be sure. Blair could obfuscate with the best of them.

The girl emerged from behind the camera to adjust Blair's position on the small stool in front of the blue backdrop. She smiled adoringly as she gently maneuvered his head to the precise position she required for the shot. Blair's warm chuckle seemed to thrill her, as she fussed with one stray curl that dangled over his forehead.

His thoughts focused on analyzing his partner, Jim didn't see the humor he normally did in his friend's antics. He cocked his head slightly, curious eyes locked attentively on Sandburg's face.

Two-fourths chameleon. Sandburg had this talent of changing colors to either blend in or stand out from his surroundings at will.

The woman moved back behind the camera, and in a moment, the flash snapped. "These are going to turn out wonderfully, Blair. You're quite photogenic," she commented happily.

Sandburg immediately mugged for the camera, turning on his best romantic leading man persona. The photographer responded by snapping another photo and commenting with a laugh that it would be 'on the house'.

One-fourth comedian, Jim thought, adding to his mental list of what makes Sandburg tick. Even under the most stressful circumstances, he's always got a one-liner or stunt to pull.

As if reading his thoughts, Blair turned to Jim, as though forgetting the photographer completely. The aura of light-hearted fun vanished, and the dark blue eyes grew intense with concern. "It's okay, man," he said quietly, but loud enough for non-functioning Sentinel ears to hear clearly. "It's gonna be fine, remember? Trust me." Blair ran his fingers through the short curls, his eyes still locked with Jim's, filled with obvious affection, and he smiled gently. Neither man acknowledged the flash going off once more.

A heartbeat later, Jim gave a brief smile and nod, then Sandburg grinned broadly before turning his attention back to the photographer for a few more shots.

*Part con-man, part chameleon, and part comedian. Not to mention brilliant and curious and stubborn and courageous. A complicated mix. But he's mine. Totally and completely devoted to me. To us. And sometimes, I'm not sure what to do with that. It scares me and thrills me to the core, all at the same time. *

"You'll be wanting all the usual, I presume," Ink mused as he gazed at the photos stacked on the table before him. A tall, thin man with salt and pepper hair and a bull beard to match, Ink apparently was a man of few words, spoken in a soft Southern drawl.

*Must be a prerequisite to entering Special Ops,* Blair thought, hiding a smile. Compared to Ink, Jim was a regular chatterbox.

"Right," Jim confirmed. "Social security cards, driver's licenses, some sort of secondary photo ID."

"I need names," Ink pointed out. "You want me to pick 'em?"

Jim took the notepad Ink was using. "Got 'em right here." He jotted down their selected names. Blair peered across the table and noted that Jim was keeping their first and middle names intact, changing only the last names.

*That'll make it easier to remember. It's gonna be hard enough to remember our new last names.*

"How long will it take, Ink?" Jim asked.

The taller man considered. "Today's Tuesday. I'm assuming this is a rush job." He smiled, revealing slightly crooked front teeth. "Since it's you, Cap'n, I'll have them for you by Monday. I'd do it faster, but I'm assuming you want a quality job."

Jim smiled at his former acquaintance . "Of course. You know me, Ink. Only the best."

"Which explains why he's teamed up with me," Blair quipped.

Jim reached out to pull on a long curl, but he pulled up short, his smile fading. Blair smiled reassuringly. "It's okay, man. Lots of changes going down right now. It's gonna take a while to adjust that's all."

Jim settled for ruffling the short, soft cap of curls instead. He didn't answer, but the warmth in his eyes spoke volumes.

Ink had been following the interaction carefully. "Hey, Cap'n? I know better than to ask too many questions, but you mind introducing me to this guy? He doesn't exactly seem your type, if you catch my drift." Looking Jim straight in the eye, he added, "You know I'd never do anything that would put you in danger, right? I owe you my life. No debt's more important than that one."

*Damn. Another Jim trait. The guy doesn't talk much, but when he gets all sincere and mushy on you, watch out!*

Blair had noted Jim's lack of introductions when they'd entered the small shop tucked away in a less-than-desirable section of the city. He'd marked it up to the need for secrecy that had become the driving force of their lives recently.

Jim studied the other man for a long minute. "If I can trust anyone right now, Ink, it would be you." He looked to Blair for his approval, and when Sandburg lowered his head slightly in tacit approval, Jim turned back to Ink. "Bernard Armstrong - Ink - meet my partner and roommate, Blair Sandburg."

Blair reached across the table to clasp the other man's hand. "It's a pleasure. I appreciate your doing this for us, man."

Ink's shrewd brown eyes studied Blair carefully. "The Cap'n's a special guy, Sandburg. You really his friend? A good friend? The kind he can count on?"

Looking into those waiting eyes, Blair tried to size up the man. What exactly did he mean by 'special'? Of course, Jim had saved his life when no other man would have had a clue that mine was there. That would make Jim special in anyone's eyes. "He's special to me, too, Ink," Blair assured him quietly, but firmly. "I care about him. A lot. He can trust me. So can you."

The eye contact between the two men held. At last, Ink nodded. "You're okay, Sandburg. I think the Cap'n's in good hands with you." Turning back to Jim, he said gruffly, "Now, get the hell out of here so I can get to work. Call me this weekend, Cap'n, and I'll let you know when to come by for the documents."

The next stop was a used car lot all the way across the city from their motel. Ink had recommended it as one of the shadiest in town, which was perfect for their current needs. Jim had no intentions of turning over the truck title and taking the chance it could be traced. An operation like Ink described would have no qualms about 'acquiring' a title through alternative sources.

It took very little time to complete the transaction. In less than an hour, Jim and Blair were en route back across town in a cab. On the way, they stopped for a leisurely dinner, then took in the Chinese Theatre, strolling by the names and handprints of the famous and forgotten. It felt good to forget their problems and just play tourist for a few hours.

Jim had one more stop to make. Ink had given him the name, he explained cryptically. The cab dropped them off in what was obviously not the most photographed sections of L.A. Seedy, run-down buildings lined the dirty streets, and the steps were filled with men of every race and age, just hanging out.

By the time they'd left, Jim had a newly-purchased - and unregistered - Glock in his shoulder holster to replace his police-issue weapon.

They finally arrived back in their room at close to ten P.M.

The minute he hit the room, Blair changed into a pair of comfortable boxers and an old, soft t-shirt, kicking his shoes into the far corner, then adding his socks to the pile. "All right, man," he said, flopping down on his bed, then rolling to his side to face Jim. "Let's deal with the senses."

Jim's eyes cut over to him. He was reclined on the second double bed, shirtless and clad only in a pair of plaid boxers. "Deal? What do you suggest, Chief?"

"First, talk to me, man. I know you turned up your senses to the max in order to put yourself in a zone, then we dialed them completely down together. What's it been like when you've tried turning them back up?" He watched Jim's expression carefully, not surprised when he caught a trace of fear flicker across the chiseled features.

"It hurts like hell," Jim admitted. "Like a sensory spike, but stronger."

"Which ones have you tried?"

Jim closed his eyes. "Sight. Then hearing. After those, I left the others alone."

"How long did you keep up the attempt? How high did you turn the dials?" Blair's mind was racing, trying to figure out the best way to approach the problem. So much depended on Jim himself, on how leery he'd become of trying out his overloaded senses.

"Not long. As soon as they kicked in, it was like they went immediately into overload. I think the dials were at about a three, maybe a four."

Blair caught the apprehension in his Sentinel's voice. He'd heard it before. When they'd first met, the uncertainty, the fear, were hidden beneath a thick layer of bravado and anger. Jim wasn't the kind of man who dealt easily with failure, and he handled being out of control even less well. Losing dominion over his senses involved both. Blair realized that helping Jim regain that control was a process to be handled with kid gloves. "Okay," he said at last. "Maybe that was too high. We'll have to take this very slowly, start at only a one on the dial."

"When?" The question was asked softly, with more than a little trepidation. Worried blue eyes opened and looked to his Guide.

Blair sat up in graceful, fluid motion, swinging his legs around and moving to perch on the side of Jim's bed. "Right now," he stated firmly. "Close your eyes."

Jim stared up at him. "Now? Don't you think we should wait?"

"For what? You're doing so much better physically, Jim, and I think if we take it slow, you'll do fine. The longer you wait, the rustier your senses may become, and I don't think that's a very good idea, do you? You said yourself, we need your senses with Brackett coming after us, right?" Blair had no clue if the 'rustier' part was true, but from the look of uncertainty in Jim's eyes, he needed all the ammo he could muster.

At last, the answer came. "All right," Jim conceded. "Let's try it. Which one first?"

Blair took a moment to think. "Hearing's always been your strongest sense, so I don't think it should be first. Sight's second strongest, so let's wait a bit on it, too. How about touch?"

That suggestion seemed to set well with the reluctant Sentinel. "Okay, Chief. Touch it is. What do you want me to do?"

The absolute trust in implicit in Jim's question and written on his face caught Blair by surprise, and his heart constricted painfully. "Just relax, man," he said, hearing the roughness in his voice, but if Jim noticed, he gave no sign.

Obediently, the blue eyes closed, and Jim took a long breath, then released it gradually.

"That's good," Blair encouraged him, leaning down closer to Jim's face, allowing his breath to brush across the Sentinel's skin. "Take a minute and just center yourself. Reach down inside and find that place within you that houses your strength, your courage." Unconsciously, his voice had dropped several tones, becoming rich and warm and calming. His 'Guide's voice', Jim called it, but Blair didn't really believe it was that different from his ordinary speaking voice. Jim insisted, though, so maybe he was right. Hard to argue with those ears.

After several minutes had gone by, with Blair murmuring quietly the entire time, Jim nodded, indicating his readiness to proceed. "All right," Blair said calmly. "I want you to ignore all the other dials. Just picture the one for touch. Got it? Okay, good. Now, can you see the zero? It's turned all the way off. First, I want you just to visualize moving it slowly up to one. Don't turn it yet, just see it. See the dial turning. It won't hurt when you move the dial, Jim. All you'll feel is me touching you, just a little more than you're feeling it right now."

Slowly, Blair reached out and rested his hand on Jim's bare shoulder, carefully avoiding any of the healing burns. "Can you feel my hand? Don't say anything; keep concentrating. Just nod."

When Jim slightly inclined his head, Blair smiled. His friend's breathing was steady, his body relaxed. So far, so good.

"What I'm going to do is just keep touching you, Jim, very gently. I want you to screen out everything else but my touch. Don't think about the bed or the sheet beneath you or anything. Only me." When he felt Jim was ready, he began moving his fingers against Jim's cool skin. He traced a path along the broad shoulder, moving slowly over powerful muscles, then continued down Jim's arm, taking his time and being careful not to use too much pressure. The sight of all those burns and bruises still made him cringe inwardly, but Blair refused to allow his emotions to reach his voice or face. Jim was healing; that was what mattered. All the time, he murmured quietly, still bent down close to Jim, not really thinking about the words, knowing it was the tone, the underlying emotions of calmness and caring that mattered.

After he'd repeated the movements several times, enough for Jim to feel secure with what Blair was doing, he said calmly, "Now, I want you to find the dial. Remember, it's not gonna hurt at all. Slowly, very easily, I want you to turn the dial up to one. No further. Easy now, that's the way."

Blair monitored Jim's expression and physical reactions carefully as he guided the Sentinel through the process of reactivating his sense of touch. He was grateful to see no signs of discomfort at all. "Jim? I need you to let me know if you're okay now. Is the dial at one?"

A slight nod.

"Okay, that's good. You're doing so good here, man. Are you okay? Is everything under control?"

Another nod.

Blair debated for a minute as he murmured comforting nothings to Jim. Should he ask Jim to take the dial up another notch? He knew the importance of proceeding slowly, but he also needed to find the limits of how far Jim could take his senses right now. He decided to risk one more increment.

"Jim? We're going to try just one more notch on the dial, man. Everything's under control; you're in total control here. Visualize the dial; see the numbers on it. The dial's on one right now. Breathe slow and easy. There's no rush at all. Nice deep breaths, buddy. Relax. Concentrate only on my touch. No sound. No smells. No sight. Just me and you, Jim." Blair did a last scan of Jim's reactions. Calm. Breathing easily. No signs of discomfort.

"All right, Jim. Find the dial, and I want you to move it very slowly up to two. That's the way, nice and easy. Everything's cool, my brother. You're in complete control."

Long minutes of quiet encouragement passed, before Blair asked, "Is the dial on two?"

Jim nodded, and Blair almost shouted in relief. They were going to make it.

"All right, man, that's so great. That's all we're gonna do for today. Leave the dial on two. The other dials are still turned all the way down. We'll deal with them later."

Blair grasped Jim's hand and held it firmly, running his thumb back and forth across each knuckle, letting his fingers massage Jim's palm. It was time to focus Jim's attention on one point, time to begin bringing him out of the trance he'd so carefully induced. "Jim? Time to come out of it, man. I need you to open your eyes, nice and slow, okay? Everything's under control, and it's safe for you to come back to me now."

Gradually, Jim began to show signs of heightened awareness. He moved slightly on the bed, and his hand tightened around Blair's, squeezing gently in response to his Guide's questions. At last, his eyes flickered open and focused on Sandburg's face.

"Hey," Blair greeted him quietly. "How do you feel?"

The corners of Jim's mouth curled upward in a victorious smile. "Touch is slightly above normal. It's okay, Chief. No pain, and I think I could dial it down again if I needed to. You did it."

"Not me, man," he disagreed. "You did all the work."

One hand reached up, still bearing the ugly rope burns and bruises, to Blair's face. The backs of Jim's fingers trailed along Blair's jaw before cupping his cheek, and the younger man leaned instinctively into the touch. "Us, Chief. Whatever I do, you're responsible. You know that."

Words failed him in the face of Jim's recognition of his importance in his life. Looking away, Blair fingered the visible reminders of Jim's torture gently, wishing helplessly that he could do more to ease his friend's pain. Everything he'd done, all he'd tried, seemed so insignificant in the face of what Jim had suffered. Was still suffering.

As though hearing his thoughts, Jim stopped his roving fingers with a firm hand. "I'm okay, Blair. I'm getting better every day. Stronger, and now, more in control. You're doing everything you can, everything I need, to help me get better. Okay?"

Lifting his head, Blair looked into Jim's eyes and saw the truth swimming in the calm blue depths. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay." He blinked hard against the heaviness fighting to close his eyelids. It had been a hell of a long day.

Nodding, Jim pulled him down beside him, guided his head against his chest and anchored him there with an arm around his shoulders. "Rest," he ordered gently. "Just rest now."

Knowing there must be more to be done, but too exhausted to think what it might be, Blair curled up next to Jim and closed his eyes. Gentle fingers caressed his short curls. From somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard the sound of soft, comforting humming, slightly off-key, rumbling in his ear, accompanied by the rhythm of a Sentinel's heart. Sighing deeply, Blair surrendered to the darkness.

For the Sentinel, sleep did not come so quickly, but he didn't mind. It was enough to be safe and to have his Guide resting close beside him, a blessed, healing balm against the lingering pain. He wasn't sure what time it was or how long they had worked on raising, ever so slightly, his sense of touch. It didn't matter. For once in their lives, they were on no schedule and had no obligations to meet. He was free to rest when his body needed it, and the Sentinel knew he had the luxury of having his Guide beside him twenty-four hours a day to help heal his physical and emotional wounds.

While the efforts to bring back one of his Sentinel senses had seemingly exhausted his Guide, Jim's reaction was quite different. He was wrapped in a blanket of serenity, a lingering calmness soothing his battered body and soul, bestowing the first true peace he'd known since his capture. Relaxed, but not yet sleepy, he was content to savor the moment.

As he lay in the darkened, quiet room, Jim was glad Blair had chosen touch to begin his reemergence as a Sentinel. Although the sensations were not as powerful as they would have been with his senses at full strength, it was enough as he savored the feeling of Blair's closeness. Not too many days ago, the only human companionship he'd had was filled with pain and dread and fear. On this night, it was pure heaven to lie still with the one who had claimed his place in Jim's heart and rest.

Jim tilted his head slowly until it came to rest on Blair's soft curls. Against his arm, he felt the unaccustomed warmth of Blair's bare neck, no longer obscured by the long, thick hair. Somehow, it made Blair appear so unprotected, so vulnerable, and Jim was reminded of how he'd felt at sight of his friend without his long curls earlier in the day. Jim instinctively tightened his embrace, tucking Blair more firmly within the circle of his arms. Against his chest, there was the sweet heat of living flesh, and the moist warmth of each exhaled breath tickled the hollow of Jim's neck. Even though his sense of touch was barely above normal, it had been so long since he'd had any Sentinel input at all that the sensations were staggering.

Jim realized he could easily zone, even on such barely-enhanced sensations, but he firmly refused to allow himself to slip that far away. It would frighten Sandburg, and the last thing Jim wanted was to cause his Guide more distress. He was tempted to try to bring another of his senses on-line, to see if he could accomplish alone what he and Sandburg had just done together. Again, the fear of zoning or of bringing on sensory overload held him back. Hadn't learning that he couldn't handle the challenges of being a Sentinel alone been the most costly lesson of his life?

Thoughts of their uncertain future darted across his mind, but Jim refused to allow them to take root. He'd planned out exactly what they needed to do up to receiving their new identity documents from Ink. From there on, he hadn't had time to think about what steps to take. Ink had promised the documents at the beginning of the week; he had days to think about what they would do next. Tonight wasn't the time for thinking about what was to come. Tonight was a time to live in the here and now, to rest, and to heal.

Satisfied that, for the present, he had done all that was necessary to ensure their safety, Jim closed his eyes. Blair stirred beside him, and intuitively, Jim's hand moved to stroke his forehead with a feather-light touch. "Shhhh... it's all right. Rest now."

Immediately, the younger man responded to his touch; his profound trust in Jim to keep him safe was powerful enough to reach him even in sleep. As Blair eased down into a peaceful sleep once more, his Sentinel followed, allowing the luxury of nothingness to claim him.

The nightmares did not haunt him.

The City of Angels hummed through the night, never ceasing its restless activity, regardless of the hour. Cocooned within the safety of a dark, anonymous room, a recuperating Sentinel and his exhausted Guide slept peacefully, their futures looming before them, encased in uncertainty and shadow.

For the next few days, that future was not discussed. Both men felt the need to back away from the situation, if only for a short time. Taking cabs and buses, Jim and Blair saw the sights of L.A., and neither mentioned the events of the past or what lay ahead. For a few days, it was enough to live only in the present.

On Monday morning, Jim phoned Ink while Blair was taking his shower. He hung up the phone, then stared at the bathroom door, listening to the sound of the running water. The I.D.s were completed. All that remained was to pay Ink, take the documentation of their new identities, and...

And what?

The shower cut off. Blair would be out soon, expecting a report from Ink.

It was time to make a decision.

Jim took the notepad and moved to the small table by the window. Thinking for a few moments, he began to write.

Blair emerged a few minutes later, one white towel wrapped around his waist as he rubbed down his hair with another towel. "One thing about this short hair, man. It really cuts down on the drying time."

Jim looked up and chuckled, but his heart still jumped at the sight of his partner's new haircut. Would he ever get used to Sandburg without that damned hair? "Chief, soon as you're done, come on over here. Ink's got the stuff ready. We've got some decisions to make."

There was little expression on Sandburg's face as he digested the news. "When do we pick them up?"

"I told Ink we'd be over after lunch."

Blair proceeded to put on a pair of jeans and a red t-shirt. "So what's next?" he asked casually, but Jim caught the note of uncertainty in his voice.

"That's what I want to talk about."

Blair joined him at the table and tapped the open atlas. "Got a destination in mind?"

"Maybe." He pushed the notepad over to his partner.

"What's this?"

"A list of things I think are important for us to consider about wherever it is we go from here."

Blair read aloud. " 'Someplace where people come and go - where strangers won't be unusual... easy access to transportation... no ties to our past... plenty of apartments, places to live.' " He stopped reading and looked up. "Hey, Jim? Sounds like you plan to settle down somewhere. I don't know; I figured we'd stay on the move for a while. Just go from place to place so Brackett couldn't get a lead on us."

"I considered that," Jim said, resting his elbows on the table. "Both ways have their pros and cons. I guess I figured that the sooner we just fade into the scenery somewhere, the less likely we are to leave any clues behind for him to find."

Blair sat quietly for a minute, studying the atlas. "Okay, I can see that. So, where do you have in mind?"

"I figure a place that gets a lot of travelers - tourists - might fit the bill. We'd stand out less than in a quiet town where everyone knows everyone else. Of course, there are several possibilities." Jim looked at Blair thoughtfully. "Where would you like to live, Chief?"

"Me? Hey, man, I've lived so many places. I really don't know."

"That brings up another point," Jim said, thinking of Blair's past in relation to their present situation for the first time. "I don't think we should go anywhere around a place you and Naomi once lived. People might recognize you or Brackett could somehow piece together your history and check out those places."

"Yeah, that's sensible." Blair turned the atlas around so it was facing him. A moment later, he grinned at Jim. "Hey, you ever been to Hawaii?"

"Hawaii?" The idea caught Jim totally off-guard. "No. Carolyn wanted to go there on our honeymoon, but... "

Sandburg's blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Where did you go on your honeymoon, Lover? Somewhere really romantic? Show the lady a trip to remember?"

Jim stared at the upside-down atlas. "Ancient history, kid. Let's... "

"Aw, c'mon, man! Where'd you take her? Bermuda? Mexico?" He was leaning forward now, and it was obvious to Jim that Blair was totally into digging up this piece of his Sentinel's past.

Jim knew he'd have no peace until the kid was satisfied. "Cleveland," he muttered, tearing up a tiny piece of paper into even tinier shreds.

Blair's blue eyes widened. "Cleveland?? Aw, Jim, tell me you didn't!"

"I didn't plan it that way, Sandburg! We kind of got married on the spur of the moment, in a J.P.'s office, and then I got word that I had to attend a conference on hostage negotiation in Cleveland. We just combined business with pleasure. The city picked up the tab."

"How romantic!" Blair shook his head, laughing. "Man, you really know how to wine and dine 'em."

Jim shrugged. "Doubt it would have made any difference, and when you get right down to it, Cleveland was a pretty appropriate choice for us. As a honeymoon destination, it was a metaphor for the whole marriage."

The humor in Blair's eyes faded immediately. "Hey, Jim, I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean... "

"It's okay. Ancient history. Forget it." He tapped the atlas. "Tell me, why Hawaii?"

"Other than the fact it's paradise, and after years of living with rain in Cascade a little tropical weather would be so great? Beautiful women... sandy white beaches... warm sunshine... Other than that?"

Jim nodded as solemnly as he could. "Yeah. Other than that."

"Okay, I'll play along." Blair's eyes were twinkling with humor. "Look at your list, man. I've never been there, and obviously, neither have you, right? Transportation's covered. Hawaii's the Gateway to the Pacific. Plenty of housing available, and so many visitors that nobody will think twice about two more deciding to stay in paradise. What's not to love?" Blair took a deep breath and sat back, waiting.

Jim bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a smile. Sandburg was obviously sold on the idea, sitting there with that grin on his face, and his eyes shining with excitement. "Other than that," he drawled, "what's the appeal?"

For an instant, he thought Blair almost bought it. "Funny, Jim. So what do you think?"

Jim considered, trying to come up with any reasons Blair's idea wouldn't work. The fact that they'd be on an island bothered him, but an idea was playing in the back of his mind that might cancel out that problem. Besides, Blair was right. Flights out of Hawaii were frequent. "Okay," he said at last. "Why not? I could stand to work on my tan."

The whoop that erupted from Sandburg rattled the window, and Jim could no longer maintain his straight face. "Guess we won't need to buy a new vehicle right away, Chief. That can wait until we find a place there."

"Oh, man, this is so cool." Blair shook his head, a wide grin splitting his face. "I mean, if you gotta live in exile, might as well do it in style, right?"

"Banks." Simon tucked the phone between his chin and shoulder as he thumbed through the stack of files on his desk, looking for the McGregor case. When he heard the voice on the other end of the phone, he dropped the files he was holding and leaned back in his chair.

"Hey, Simon."

Jim Ellison.

Even though it had only been a little over a week since Jim and Blair left Cascade, it was so good to hear his friend's voice again that Simon broke into a wide grin. "Jim! Where... ?" Catching himself, Simon finished, "Scratch that. Sorry. How are you?"

"We're fine, Simon. I don't want to stay on long, just in case. Any news?"

Brief and to the point. Obviously, Jim wasn't taking any chances. Simon just wished he had better news to give. "Not really. The feds have managed to locate some of the members of FAN, but they've all pleaded ignorance of Owl's present location or activities, and we can't prove differently - yet. They went through some pretty heavy interrogation, but none of them broke. I watched or participated in all the interviews, and frankly, I don't think any of them knows anything. They're just followers. Owl and his lieutenants are the real movers and shakers in the organization, and so far, we haven't had any luck locating them. Or Brackett," he added as an afterthought.

There was a definite note of resignation in Jim's voice when he replied, "That's all I needed to know. Looks like we're in this for the long haul. There are some envelopes on the kitchen table at home, Simon. Would you get them to the people whose names are on the fronts for me? Just some notes explaining as much as we can about why we've disappeared. There's one there for my dad and one for Steven. I hate asking, but I didn't want it to just arrive in the mail. Would you mind taking those two in person for me? Blair wrote one for Daryl. He feels really bad leaving without saying good-bye to him. The others are for Blair's coworkers at the university. You can drop those by the anthropology department secretary and let her pass them out."

Simon was struck by the business-like attitude in Jim's voice. "Are you sure you can't call your father or Steven, Jim? I'm sure they'd much rather hear this coming from you."

The response was quick, and Simon could visualize the determined set of Jim's jaw. "No. There'd be way too many questions, and frankly, I'm just not up to dealing with my family right now. Sandburg's talked to Naomi, and that's it for long explanations."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"The loft's taken care of through my attorney, so that's not a problem. He's getting all the mail forwarded to his office. My bank accounts are closed, and my retirement fund should be on auto-pilot until we get back. I've asked Dad to handle my investments for me, and my attorney knows what to do with that." There was silence for a moment. "I'll call you every few weeks for updates, Simon. Other than that... "

There was little else to say. "Be careful, Jim. It's awfully quiet without you and Sandburg here."

"Particularly without Sandburg, huh?" Jim joked. "We're being careful, Simon. You just find those bastards."

The connection ended. Simon laid the phone back on his desk, then turned to gaze through the bullpen window at the empty desk with the empty chair beside it and thought about the void two absent friends can create.

There was no need to remain in L.A. The documents Ink had designed for them were perfect. No doubt about it; the man was a creative genius. Jim had already opened three separate bank accounts around the city, depositing roughly a third of his savings in each one. When they settled down, he could open an account and transfer the money there. He'd kept out a substantial amount of cash, but as hard as Blair tried to pry the reason why out of him, Jim remained frustratingly tight-lipped.

Now they were in a cab heading to an address Blair didn't recognize at all, and still, his partner refused to give any information about where they were going and why. "Taking the next step toward our new lives, Chief," was as much as he would say.

While Jim paid the driver, Blair stared in amazement. "What are we doing here?" He turned to Jim as a huge grin broke across the Sentinel's face.

"Take a guess, Darwin." He gestured toward the huge fenced lot before them. "What do you think?"

"You're thinking about buying a sailboat? Why? I mean, I know we decided on escaping to paradise, but shouldn't we wait until we get there to start with the recreational activities?"

Jim headed in the gate, Blair right on his heels. "Look at the size of these boats, Chief. I'm not exactly talking pure recreation here."

Looking around at the yard, he could see the truth of Jim's statement. The boats weren't the small variety used for weekend recreation. These were practically yachts, large vessels that most definitely required an experience captain to sail. Blair excitedly went over to the closest boat and began inspecting it. "Can you sail these things, man? Can you really afford this?"

Jim looked at the boat with a critical eye. "Yes, to both. I've made good investments, and I came into some money from my grandfather that I kept in CDs. So, it's definitely affordable. A better investment than pouring away rent money. Plus, we can rent a slip somewhere and not leave as big a paper trail as buying a place or even renting. As for sailing, my old man was nuts about boats. He made sure Steven and I could handle anything with a sail before we got to high school."

Jim glanced down at Blair, then back to the boat again, with a distant look in his eyes. "Almost took all the joy out of it for me, though. Everything was a competition with that man, even a Sunday sail on the ocean. He'd rent two boats, then he'd put me in charge of one with Steven captaining the other and make us race. He'd grade us on how well we judged the wind direction, the neatness of our boat, and of course, who was fastest... everything. Amazing that I didn't grow to hate sailing."

Blair almost asked who usually won, just to tease Jim a little, but the underlying pain recalling the memories brought to his voice stopped him. Spotting a boat on the far side of the yard, Blair headed that way. "Hey, Jim, look at this one, man."

By the time Jim joined him, Blair was already sold on the beautiful yacht. "Oh, man, this is gorgeous." He ran his hand appreciatively over the wooden hull.

Before Jim could comment, a salesman came up from behind them. "Nice choice, gentlemen." He held out a hand to Jim. "My name's Larry Keene."

"Jim Keller," Jim said, with only a trace of hesitation before using his new last name for the first time. "My friend's Blair Hawking. Tell us about the boat."

Keene moved into a long explanation of the high points of the fifty foot motorsailer as they toured the boat. Built in 1969...recently refurbished, top to bottom... solid mahogany with a teak roof on the cabin... 120 horsepower, 6 cylinder diesel engine... impressive sail inventory... GPS system... radar... auto-pilot... depth sounder... reinforced hull... roomy cabin or 'salon' with a fold-down table... berth with two beds, arranged in a V formation... complete galley... a 'head'... lots of portholes for visibility...polished wood floors and accents throughout the interior... a roomy cockpit with ample seating while underway.

"All in all," Keene concluded, "it's a classic yacht with modern upgrades." He eyed Jim hopefully, obviously realizing from Jim's questions that he was the sailor in the team.

"I think we need to look at newer boats," Jim commented, with no trace of emotion.

Blair bit back his feeling of disappointment. Jim probably had seen something amiss with the mahogany beauty that he'd not known enough to catch. He'd never even been on a sailboat; he sure wasn't going to try to argue with Jim's decision about that beautiful boat. He fell in behind Jim as the salesman led them to the next boat.

After touring and hearing the sales pitch for at least a half-dozen other vessels, Jim was satisfied. Secretly, he'd already made up his mind to buy the mahogany yacht as soon as he set foot on the deck. It was a boat of distinction, a reminder of the workmanship of a by-gone era, and something about its simple beauty appealed to Jim. He'd always believed that a boat should 'speak' to your soul, and the motorsailer spoke to his.

Jim turned to Mr. Keene. "Let's talk price."

A wide smile creased Keene's face. "On which boat, Mr. Keller?"

Jim flashed a quick grin at Blair. "The first one; the mahogany '69. It was a very good year, you know." He was rewarded by a blinding smile from his surprised partner. Looking over at the beautiful yacht, Jim had a feeling that their new life was getting off to a very auspicious start.

As Jim prepared to pay Mr. Keene after all the paperwork was completed, Blair stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Wait a minute, man." Reaching into his pocket, Blair withdrew his wallet. Holding out a handful of bills, he said, "Take this. It's not much, just $2,500.00, but it's all I have."

Jim held his gaze. "Mr. Keene? Would you excuse us a minute?"

Keene got up from his desk and walked to the door. "Certainly. I'll step out and give these copies to our sales manager. Just let me know when you're done. Hit #26 on the phone, and it'll put you through to her office."

When the door closed, leaving them alone, Jim shook his head. "Keep the money, Chief. I can handle this."

"I know you can. That's not the point." The azure eyes held firm.

Then what is the point? I know you haven't been making enough to spare your entire savings, especially now that you're... unemployed." Jim felt awkward reminding Blair that, thanks to his alliance with his Sentinel, he was no longer a Ph.D. candidate and graduate assistant. Who knew if Blair would ever earn that degree now?

Blair's expression softened. "I just want to be a part of this, Jim, even in a small way. I mean, you've always made me feel at home in the loft, but it's your home. I want to help pay for this boat. It's gonna be my home now, right? Paying for part of it will make me feel like it's really mine. I've never owned any place that I've lived before, and somehow, that's important to me now. Can you understand that?"

Jim nodded as he squeezed his friend's shoulder. Taking the money from Blair, he said quietly, "You've always got a home with me, Chief, whether you pay rent, put down part of a payment, or pay nothing at all. You know that right?" When Blair nodded, his eyes shining brightly, Jim grinned broadly as he reached for the phone. "You just bought yourself a sailboat, Chief."

Five days later, the boat pulled gracefully away from a nearby dock. The galley was stocked, linens and other necessities had been purchased, the rigging fully inspected, and the engine was fueled. Jim was at the helm, as Blair stood slightly behind him, watching every move his friend made. They would depart under engine power and switch to sails once they were in the open ocean. Their emergency dingy bounced along behind, and a spare zodiac raft was stowed away, in case it was needed. Jim had been over his checklist a dozen times, and as they left shore, he was satisfied that every base was covered.

"We're off, Chief." Jim glanced over his shoulder at Blair. He wondered if his friend felt the same way he did - as though he was leaving a huge part of himself behind, yet oddly excited at the possibilities that lay ahead. The question didn't remain unanswered for long.

Blair's excitement was evident as he stared at the water ahead with a huge smile. "Oh, man! I don't think I've ever been so excited! I mean, I've lived a lot of places, but heading out across the Pacific on a sailboat to start a brand-new life, that's a new one even for me. It's kinda scary, but I'm excited about it all, too, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Jim agreed, glad that Blair did indeed understand.

"And we're taking home with us, just like I said we always would, aren't we?" Blair laughed at the irony. "I think you came up with the perfect name. Sanctuary. It fits, not only this gorgeous boat but what she represents."

Jim was pleased with the idea he'd come up with shortly after purchasing the yacht. "I think she'll make a good home. Not as spacious as the loft, but she's ours and a safe haven from Owl and Brackett."

He heard soft laughter from behind him. "I wish Simon could see us now, don't you? Taking off on a sailboat for Hawaii, leaving the bad guys far behind."

A few minutes later, they were out on the open ocean. The skies were clear, and a brisk wind insured good sailing. Jim scanned the horizon for long minutes, breathing in the salt air. "Let's raise those sails, Chief," he said at last. "We've got a long way to go."

Days on the sea passed in an almost dream-like tranquility. After so long looking over their shoulders, the isolation of a sea voyage meant safety, and that was a luxury both men had lived too long without. The weather cooperated completely, a palette of blues and greens, dappled with gold as though from a Monet painting.

Blair stood at the wheel, savoring the feeling of skimming across the sea. Jim's lessons had given him enough confidence to captain The Sanctuary for short periods, always with Jim close at hand. The ocean breeze tickled his neck, exposed for the first time in so many years, and Blair grinned at the sensation. He felt so free! Both men had abandoned shirts, lathering on sunscreen to avoid burning, but taking the opportunity to unwind completely. Cut-off jeans or shorts were standard attire; shoes were optional. Already, Blair's curls had picked up a golden sheen, and Jim's short hair was at least two shades lighter. Sometimes, gazing out at the sheer magnificence of the ocean, Blair wondered about his place in the universe. He refused to allow himself to feel lost, focusing instead on the simple pleasures the voyage offered - simple clothing, simple conversation, simple dreams.

Eating was simple, too. They had stowed away fresh fruit and lots of makings for salads. Baked beans with hot dogs and potato chips was about as complex as the cooking became. They didn't follow any set schedule. Meals were eaten whenever someone was hungry.

Their entertainment was equally simple. Although Blair had internet access through his laptop and cell phone, now registered under his new name, he seldom took advantage of it. Leaving Cascade and his academic life behind had signaled a new beginning in more ways than one. He no longer felt the drive to be busy every second of the day, and Blair found he preferred to spend his leisure time reading a novel, playing chess with Jim, or just staring out at the ever-changing ocean.

Jim had disappeared below deck several minutes earlier, and he emerged now, moving gracefully across the gently rolling deck, a man at home on the sea. Strolling to the bow, he leaned against the rail, eyes focused on the distant horizon.

What would Jim see if his Sentinel abilities had been at full power? How vast the ocean must seem to a man with Jim's gifts. If its greatness made Blair feel small, would Jim feel even more insignificant? Regret that his friend was now without his enhanced senses surged through the anthropologist, and he wished he had been able to do more to help Jim regain his gifts. So far, they'd barely begun to turn Jim's control dials up above a normal level.

As though sensing his Guide's innermost thoughts, Jim half-turned toward Blair and caught his eye. A look of silent understanding passed between them, the message delivered through a sensitivity born of trust and long association. Slowly, a soft smile spread across Jim's face, and neither looked away, both content to bask in the moment. At last, his face still graced by the same soft smile, Jim turned back to the sea.

Blair watched his Sentinel's back as he guided the Sanctuary across the water. According to Jim's calculations, they would arrive tomorrow in the waters surrounding the Hawaiian Islands. A new chapter of his life was about to begin, yet another chapter in a life already filled with unique adventures and discoveries. What lay ahead of them? Would they ever return to Cascade and the life they had left behind?

In the end, did it really matter?

His entire life, at least from the time he was a teenager, had been spent in his quest for a Sentinel.

That Sentinel stood before him now. Battered, tired, and without the majority of his enhanced senses, perhaps, but Jim was still his Sentinel. Would always be his Sentinel, no matter what the circumstances.

A school of dolphins fell in beside the Sanctuary. About a half dozen sleek, torpedo forms skimming through the waves with some of the more playful ones leaping into the air, then falling back into the water once more. Jim turned and pointed at their escorts, laughing aloud at the sight of the graceful mammals. Blair's heart swelled with gratitude.

Jim was going to be all right. They would find a port - a port in the storm - he mused. Then they could settle down for a while. Get the rest of Jim's senses back on line. He'd look for a job somewhere. Not in anthropology, of course, and he really had no idea what else he could do, but he'd find something. They both would.

He grinned back at his partner. They had already survived the worst. From here on out, life was going to be looking up.

Carl Burr's cold eyes pinned Brackett firmly. "What do you mean you can't find him?"

Brackett forced his face to remain void of expression. Every time he met with this man, he disliked him more and more. "Yet," he replied patiently. "I said I haven't been able to locate him yet." He poured some water from the pitcher on the corner of Burr's desk. "You know we had him located at that cabin up in the mountains. Must have just missed them by a few hours. The tire tracks out front were fresh. Like I said, I staked out their apartment back in town, but if they went back there, they were still a couple of hours ahead of me."

He stared into the glass, watching the swirling pattern of the water as it settled from pouring. "Ellison's truck turned up in L.A., so it's a pretty fair bet they took off south. Maybe hopped a flight out of L.A.X. I can't turn up any vehicle registrations under either name, but Ellison's too smart for that anyway. He'll be using a new identity by this time. Right now, L.A.'s our best shot. I'll be flying down tomorrow to nose around."

The former CIA agent sipped the cool water gratefully. It had been another long day. Lee Brackett was beginning to question the wisdom of his alliance with Carl Burr and the whole damn FAN movement. At first, he thought the organization had its act together. Now, he wasn't sure at all. Still, the money was right. If this nutcase didn't have anything better to do with his fortune than play spy, Brackett was all too willing to accommodate him.

"What about Ellison's civilian and military contacts?" Burr picked up a pistol from the top of his desk and flipped open the chamber casually. "I thought you had a lead there."

Brackett nodded slowly. "I do. There's supposedly an old Army buddy of Ellison's who's a master at creative printing. Problem is, I don't have a name yet or a location." He stared at Burr steadily. "But I will. Give me time. If we're lucky, I'll find something in Los Angeles."

After some discussion, Jim and Blair decided to spend some time on each of Hawaii's major islands before making up their minds where they would like to settle down. Each island offered its own unique gifts, Blair explained. He'd been researching their destination with his usual zeal, and he carefully explained the characteristics of each one.

They began with Oahu, the most populated of the islands. Cautious as ever, Jim was concerned about being around the many tourists crowding the most popular attractions; there could easily be someone from Cascade who would recognize them. Blair, however, was determined to see at least some of what made Oahu famous - the beaches, Pearl Harbor, and Diamond Head crater. At last, they compromised. They'd spend a few days on Oahu, seeing the mandatory sights, then they would move on to less dangerous destinations.

The highlight of the days on Oahu for Blair would always be Pearl Harbor. Not necessarily for his own personal experience there, although it was certainly an emotional visit, but for what the trip had obviously meant to Jim.

They had saved the visit for last. Already, they'd hit the major attractions - the Polynesian Cultural Center... Hanauma Bay for snorkeling... a drive to the North Shore. It had been an unspoken agreement that Pearl Harbor would be last; it seemed to feel right to both men to save the most meaningful destination until right before their own departure.

The gates had not yet opened when Jim and Blair arrived early on Sunday morning, the least crowded time for a tour, according to Blair's research. Apparently, the tip was correct. Only a few scattered groups of tourists bought tickets for the first boat out to the memorial.

They boarded the Navy launch in silence. Jim and Blair settled in the bow, leaving the other passengers to take up the seats in the middle or rear. Blair had already made up his mind to follow Jim's lead on this excursion. The soldier in Jim Ellison was still very much alive and well, and Blair realized that a visit to the place where so many soldiers had died over fifty years before could prove emotional for the normally self-contained man.

Apparently Jim had chosen the silent vigil route. As the launch pulled away from the dock, Jim's eyes remained fastened on the various markers lining the harbor. Large white rectangular markers confirmed the original positions of the U.S. fleet on Battleship Row that fateful December day. So far, at least from what Blair could tell, Jim had not yet looked at the graceful white memorial rising from the blue waters of Pearl Harbor over the sunken remains of the U.S.S. Arizona. Those clear blue eyes steadily took in all the ships of the harbor, the markers, and the other surroundings, but as yet, they had not focused on what they'd all come to see.

Blair looked away from studying his partner's profile to see three figures joining them in the bow. At the same time, Jim turned to look as well.

Three elderly Japanese men walked rather unsteadily to stand at the rail. Each man held in his hands a lei, each one composed of fragrant white plumeria blossoms and strung together with intricate care. None of the newcomers looked at either Jim or Blair; their heads remained lowered, watery dark eyes stared unblinking at the white vision slowly drawing ever closer.

A slight shiver tickled Blair's spine, and suddenly *he knew*. Blair glanced up at Jim, wondering if he felt the same reaction. Jim's pale blue eyes met his and held, and in that unspoken communion, Blair understood that the Sentinel, too, knew the truth.

Blair took a step closer to Jim, standing near enough to press his arm against Jim's in silent support, and their gazes returned to the harbor. Neither man looked at each other again until the launch pulled up to dock at the memorial.

It was one of those perfect island mornings when the sun creates sparkling diamonds on the harbor. A light breeze made the U.S. flag dance, and the azure sky was reflected against cobalt waters.

Blair studied the Pearl Harbor Memorial silently as they waited for the launch to be moored. It was an elegant design: a long white rectangle that dipped down in the center then rose upward on each end. A symbol of rising in triumph from out of defeat, he remembered the orientation Guide had told them. Out of respect for the hundreds of men still lying entombed in the battered and broken ship below, there was no commentary from their Guide on the way to and from the memorial or while they were there.

Throughout the memorial, there were large, freeform windows cut into the top and sides. Twenty-one windows, to be precise. An eternal twenty-one gun salute carved in stone, in honor of long-silent heroes.

Blair watched the flag waving in the breeze, and his eyes followed the tall pole as it continued against the surface. The Arizona had never been decommissioned, so the flag they saw on the surface was actually flying from the ship herself. An oddly moving thought, Blair realized, blinking rapidly as he followed Jim and the others along the gangplank to the memorial itself. The three Japanese visitors were the last to disembark, following behind Jim and Blair.

As they stepped onto the memorial, a huge oil painting of the doomed Arizona, listing badly with her flag valiantly waving and the modern memorial superimposed in the foreground, was hanging high above. All eyes were drawn first to the image, then to the large marble wall that waited through the opening below the painting.

The wall of the dead.

Blair followed Jim as the older man moved slowly through the doorway. They paused in the center of the memorial's main hall before an opening in the floor, surrounded by a railing. There, they gazed down upon the Arizona, lying only a few feet beneath the water. The few other passengers joined them, except for the Japanese men who stood at the outer railing of the memorial, gazing silently at the ship below. As Blair watched, a small bubble of oil floated lazily to the surface, then broke, spreading a rainbow of color across the water.

He shivered, then felt Jim's arm press his firmly. The Sentinel understood.

In time, they moved to stand before the wall.

So many names.

As Blair read them, he couldn't stop the images forming in his mind.

Young men, so proud to serve their country in such a lovely place, enjoying a peaceful Sunday morning. Some writing letters home. Others doing all the mundane things of life - reading, eating, sleeping, talking, playing cards - until their world exploded in a sudden hell of confusion, fire, and death. He could see in his mind, as clearly as if he had been there, the burned bodies, screams of anguish, and those terrible fires burning on the oil-polluted water, and Blair could not withhold his tears at the tragic loss of life and innocence.

He glanced up at Jim's face. His blue eyes were locked on the marble wall. A single tear trickled slowly down one chiseled cheek.

Neither spoke.

There were no words powerful enough.

The others had already drifted from the wall of names. Then the three elderly Japanese approached the wall. Blair and Jim moved as one to the side, allowing them to approach and stand directly before the lengthy list of the dead.

None of the men spoke. They stood in silence, heads bowed, their leis held gently in gnarled, rough hands. For long minutes, the men stood before the names of the victims as Jim and Blair watched, knowing somehow that they were witnessing an event of incalculable importance.

At last, the three Japanese turned away, and the one in the middle raised his head to gaze directly into Blair's eyes. The bleary old eyes were brimming with tears.

The three approached the tall, silent Sentinel standing watch over the watery grave. Standing in a line before him, all three bowed their heads for a long moment, then the one who'd looked at Blair spoke.

"You are American military?"

Blair smiled through his own tears. There was something of Jim that marked him for life as a soldier, and his heart swelled in pride at that knowledge. What better brand to carry than that of one who'd served his country with honor, especially in this sacred place?

Jim's head declined slightly. "I served my country."

The Japanese nodded in acknowledgement of their shared bond. "As did we," the spokesman for the group confirmed. "We... were here."

The power of those three small words and the truth they carried was staggering. Although Blair had guessed the truth, as had Jim, knowing it and hearing it were two different experiences.

Sorrowful black eyes held ice-blue. "We hoped to meet someone else who was here on that day when we took this trip, but our Guide is too young." A small smile twitched at the corners of the down-turned lips, but only for an instant. "So are you. However, you are American military, and so, in apologizing to you, we hope to apologize to all you represent."

Another small bow of the head. "What we did on that day was not honorable. We did not know your government had not been informed; we brought disgrace upon Japan by killing those still in their beds. My words can never make up for all that was lost that day, but words are all we have to give." He spread his hands slightly, drawing his two companions into the small drama playing out. "They do not speak English, but know that my comrades heartily concur. We apologize to you... to your father's generation... to the United States of America for our part in this attack. For our role in the deaths of the brave young men who lie beneath this memorial, men never given the opportunity to defend themselves or their nation."

Blair couldn't have spoken a word, even if he'd known what to say. He could only look from the solemn face of the old soldier, his head now bowed in shame, to the younger face of another soldier, standing at his side. Around them, the waters of Pearl Harbor lapped at the base of the memorial and in the distance, birds sang in the trees. The skies were vibrant blue, and the only traces of what had happened so long ago lay silent beneath their feet. Yet, despite the years, Blair could almost hear the whispers of the dead in the soft breathing of the three men standing before him as they all waited for Jim to speak.

The reply was so low, Blair almost didn't recognize Jim's voice, as husky and gravely as it was. "You have brought honor and dignity to your country. You did then what your duty demanded of you, and today, you sought to make peace with your actions. You have nothing to be ashamed of today." Quietly, Jim held out his hand.

The elderly Japanese slowly raised his head, and Blair could swear he saw a light glowing in the black depths that hadn't been there before. A light of pride and relief at a burden long carried being lifted at last. Drawing a deep, shaky breath, the old man clasped Jim's hand and nodded once. "Thank you." Speaking rapidly to his comrades, he released Jim as he gestured expansively. Soon, the other two men were smiling broadly and shaking the hand of the former covert ops captain and Sentinel, obviously as relieved as their friend.

"Now, we would like to place these flowers on the water for those who died that day," the spokesman for the three said quietly. "We would be honored if you would join us."

Moving to the railing nearest the American flag, Jim and Blair stood behind the three Japanese in silence. Jim leaned heavily on his cane, the breeze ruffling his short hair. Each man spoke something in his native tongue, head bowed and eyes closed, then the one who spoke for them turned to Blair. "You have a strong spirit," he said warmly. "We have prayed in our own language for those who lie below and those who died here and but rest for eternity in on the mainland. Would you do the same in English?"

Blair was taken off-guard. He glanced quickly up and Jim. His friend smiled softly. "Go ahead, Chief. I can't think of anyone better."

Still a little unsure, Blair looked down at the rusting remains of the Arizona then back at the wrinkled faces of those who had been part of the devastating attack so many, many years before. So many had sacrificed on that day; so many had lived with that sacrifice weighing heavy on their consciences for every hour since. How could he refuse?

"Neither of us has any idea what it was like here on the ground that December morning." His eyes flickered to Jim's face, then back to the ruined battleship. "I can only imagine the horror. Any war is a terrible thing, drawing innocent young men into events too huge for them to comprehend at the time. The men who lie below us have known peace for a long time now, resting in a place where war and hatred are nonexistent. If they are watching what happened here today, I am certain they are pleased that you three have also found peace at last, a peace a long time coming."

Pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts, Blair placed his hands on the railing and stared down into the mesmerizing motion of the water. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he spoke again, his voice was brimming with emotion. "May the peace you found today see you through the remainder of your lives. May they know that their lives were not sacrificed in vain. May the world one day know a time when such events, such sacrifices, are considered so barbaric, so inhumane, that they completely cease to exist." Turning, Blair smiled at the three Japanese and at Jim through the misty haze obscuring his vision. "May we all live in peace."

Blair was quiet on the way back to the Sanctuary from the harbor. Jim watched him out of the corner of his eye as Blair maneuvered through the Honolulu traffic. He missed driving. Rubbing his aching knee, Jim considered whether he should try to find a doctor in the islands, then he quickly dismissed the idea as too risky. He would know when he was ready for the next steps in his recovery. Maybe he'd wait a bit longer to try driving.

Turning his attention back to his partner, Jim commented, "You did a good job back there, Chief."

Blair glanced over at him. "Really?"

"Really. Those veterans picked the right guy to say a few words for them."

He could almost see Blair relax at his remark. Funny how a guy as talented, intelligent, and easy-going as Sandburg could rely so heavily on the judgment of someone else, but Jim knew his friend valued his opinion highly. "You did good, Chief," Jim repeated, feeling a need to be sure Sandburg knew he meant the compliment sincerely. He had been secretively relieved back at the memorial when the old soldiers hadn't asked *him* to speak for them.

A quick smile flashed over at him, and Jim grinned in return. Then, Blair was off on one of his long commentaries, and Jim just settled back to listen.

"Man, can you believe what just happened back there? Those guys were actually a part of history, Jim! I know some history buffs who'd have given their eye-teeth for the chance to interview those three. Can you imagine the guilt they've been living with all this time? I wonder how long they've waited to come here. What emotions they must have been feeling! Just think of looking down into that ship and knowing that you were directly responsible for what happened that day. Oh, man!" Blair shook his head at the thought, one hand tapping excitedly on the steering wheel. "I wasn't sure what to say, y'know. I kept thinking of all those men... all those bodies still lying down there. Must be a really powerful spiritual place, don't you think? I... " He cut his eyes over at Jim. "I'm blabbering again, aren't I?"

Jim's amused expression turned into a full grin. "A little, yeah, but that's okay. Been a while since either of us felt like falling into the old patterns. To tell the truth, I kinda missed your... blabbering."

Blair's answering grin was just as broad. "I think there's a compliment in there somewhere." He glanced at Jim again. "You up for some lunch?"

"Ready when you are, Chief. How about Chinese? We're not far from Chinatown. We could wheel by there, grab some lunch, then make some decisions about where we go from here."

From the glow in Blair's eyes, Jim could tell that he, too, was glad that their lives were approaching some semblance of normal. It had been far too long.

"You're on, man." Blair took a left and headed toward the area of Honolulu known as Chinatown. "And, Jim?" The younger man grinned at Jim as if he held the world in his hands rather than the steering wheel of a rented compact.

"Yeah?"

Sandburg laughed and turned on the radio to an upbeat tune. "Where we go from here? The sky's the limit, man!"

The next few weeks saw them seeing the islands of Hawaii, taking in the usual tourist destinations, but also sizing up every harbor and marina they could find as a possible home. Their final stop was the big island of Hawaii, and from the moment they laid eyes on its tropical lushness, both men knew instinctively that their search was over. They toured the island for several days, but there was never any doubt. From the lushness of the Hilo coast to the rugged beauty of the volcano region, the Big Island of Hawaii reminded them of places they both loved - Peru... Mexico... Cascade.

It was settled with little discussion. The Big Island would be their home.

Even finding a site to moor the boat wasn't difficult. They realized it would be taking too great a risk to settle too close to a major tourist destination. They couldn't chance being recognized by some traveler from Cascade. Then, on the road to Kona, they found it - the perfect marina.

It was small, and it was obvious from the vessels moored there that the people who kept their boats there were locals. There were none of the huge, impressive yachts of which so many of the marinas boasted. These were modest vessels, the kind of boats working men save to buy and enjoy on their days off. Little chance of running into a vacationing Cascade native there.

The marina nestled into a small inlet about a half mile off the main road around the island. Only a very small sign marked the entrance. It was the kind of place you had to know was there to find.

The inlet formed a perfect harbor. Gentle waves lapped at the sides of the moored boats, and palm trees waved in the light breeze off the Pacific. Long wooden floating docks connected the mooring slips, and a small concrete block building at the top of the hill bore a sign that marked it as the 'Rental Office'. Off to one side, a long narrow addition served as a laundromat. A variety of snack machines were lined up outside.

Blair and Jim strolled around the marina, taking everything in. It was quiet. From a few boats, they heard the sound of voices or an occasional television set or radio, but most of the vessels seemed empty. Three empty slips seemed encouraging.

"What do you think?" Jim asked, resting on the borrowed cane, as they completed their impromptu tour.

Blair glanced around again. He couldn't find a thing wrong with the place. It was definitely quiet, secluded, and didn't seem the kind of place where they were likely to be recognized. "I think it's fine," he concluded at last. "Seems just like what we're looking for. You?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Let's go find the manager."

A half-hour later, they headed back to where they had docked the Sanctuary, a lease in hand and the last slip on the first pier waiting for them.

Jim had seldom known such relaxation, and with the ease of their new life, his injuries healed quickly. Within weeks of their arrival at Paradise Marina, he had abandoned the beautifully carved cane Dan Black Wolf had provided. Jim stowed it carefully, determined that one day he would return it to Wolf with his gratitude.

His other injuries were also healing. The horrible bruises and burns faded gradually, and the golden-brown tan Jim developed from hours on deck soon replaced the pallor he'd developed during his captivity and time indoors recuperating.

The Sentinel's senses healed along with his body. Within six weeks, Jim's senses were about half their normal power, and even he had to admit that Blair had been right. By proceeding slowly, much as they had in the hotel room back in L.A., Jim regained most of his Sentinel senses with very few complications.

It was Jim who hesitated taking the final steps toward regaining his full range of senses. Each time he tried to push past the 50% mark, he lost all control, spiraling down in a whirlpool of pain and fear. After three attempts, Jim refused to push any farther. If he had to survive with only part of his Sentinel abilities intact, then so be it. It would have to be enough.

Blair didn't push the issue. The younger man seemed pleased that Jim had made it this far back, and he seemed content to let regaining Jim's full complement of senses wait. Jim could read Blair's pride in him, almost physically sense it. Sandburg hadn't been at all sure he'd ever make it back this far Jim realized, and the revelation startled him. If there had been one thing he'd never doubted during the days, weeks, and now, the months since his torture, it was Blair's faith. It was when he realized that Blair hadn't been certain of his recovery that Jim understood exactly how dangerously close to death he had truly been.

But the past was past, and Jim doggedly put the experiences of recent months behind him. Except for the always present concern about being tracked down, it was time for him to let go of his past and learn to live in the new, unfamiliar present.

They had slipped into an easy routine. No longer required to get up early, Blair fell into his natural night owl habits, staying up late and sleeping in the next morning. Jim, on the other hand, was a more natural morning person. He stayed up until eleven or midnight with Blair, then turned in. The next morning, he prepared breakfast and was eating up on deck with his Guide still sleeping peacefully below.

The routine had its advantages. In the small space below deck, there wasn't much room for privacy. The two beds were arranged in a V-shape, so sleeping was in rather close quarters. Jim and Blair's heads were separated only by less than two feet, their toes by mere inches. Their different bedtimes allowed both men some needed privacy at night and in the morning.

Jim had to admit he liked the sleeping arrangements more than he'd thought he would when he first eyed the small quarters he and Sandburg would be sharing. Maybe it was the trauma he'd just survived or perhaps it was another of the Sentinel/Guide things he would never understand. Whatever the reason, it was comforting to wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes with a scream caught in his throat, to find Blair within arm's reach, the comforting sound of his breathing and heartbeat only inches away.

Jim hoped Blair might find the same reassurance in his presence.

"C'mon, man!" Blair was unable to keep his voice calm. Ellison was just too damned frustrating. "You'll never find out if you can get your senses totally back on-line if you want even try."

Jim didn't even turn in his direction. He kept his eyes focused on the map spread across the small dining table in the galley. "What do you think, Chief? Should we check out the waters over at Hanalei Bay this weekend or stick closer to home?"

Blair shook his head and bit the inside of his cheek in sheer frustration. "What do I think? I think you're being a total wimp about this, Ellison! Just because you had a couple of bad reactions the first few times we tried turning up your dials up a few notches doesn't mean it'll happen this time. What are you gonna do, huh? Stay a 50% Sentinel for the rest of your life?" If only the man would show some emotion! Sometimes dealing with Jim was like trying to get a rise out of an oyster. He just sat there, showing nothing.

Cool blue eyes regarded Blair across the table. "A 50% Sentinel? Maybe. Beats the hell out of losing control completely, don't you think?"

"No," Blair responded firmly. "I don't think that at all. So what if you lose control and fall, man? Figuratively, anyway. I'll be here to catch you. Or are we back to the trust thing again?" Blair drew a deep breath. "Frankly, I'm not sure if I can deal with all that crap right now."

The ice-hard eyes softened slightly. "It's not a matter of trust, Chief. I just don't want to go through it again. Not yet."

Blair caught a glimpse of the fear lurking in the shadows of Jim's blue eyes. He took a couple more deep breaths, fighting to center himself and remain calm for Jim's sake. "You do know why it's happening right?"

There. A flash of curiosity. "Why I hurt like hell every time I try to dial up my senses? I just figured it's because I don't have my control back yet." Jim regarded him closely. "Is there more?"

"Maybe." Blair knew he had him hooked now, and he intended to play Jim like a bass caught on a lure. Carefully and firmly. "Think about it, man. You underwent some of the most extreme forms of torture man's ever devised and you survived. To do that, you had to dial your senses completely down to zero, right?"

When Jim nodded reluctantly, obviously uncomfortable at the old memories Blair was digging up, Sandburg continued. "Okay. What happened when you finally dialed up your senses? When you went into that last, desperate zone?"

A visible shiver shook Jim's body. His right hand fiddled with a pencil lying on the table, and Blair could see the tiny trembling in the long, sensitive fingers. "I've never felt anything close to that kind of pain before, Blair," Jim said quietly after a long silence. "It was like a fire consuming every inch of my body - the hottest, most powerful fire and the most horrible pain you can possibly imagine. I didn't know if I'd survive long enough to let the zone take over my mind." Jim's voice was strained, as though the words were being forced out over a parched, tortured throat.

Reaching over, Blair rested his hand over Jim's and curled his fingers around the trembling hand. "It's okay," he whispered huskily. "I know, man."

They sat that way, in silence, for several minutes. At last, Blair began to talk in a quiet, calm voice. "What I think is this. Your subconscious doesn't understand yet that the pain is gone, that you're really and truly safe. So when you try to dial up your senses, your body rebels. The pain's kind of a message sent to warn you to back off."

Jim's eyes locked with Blair's. "So how do we by-pass this warning system?"

"We don't. We just keep trying, one click of the dial at a time. Hopefully, your subconscious will get the message that you're safe now, that your senses can function without pain." Blair held Jim's gaze steadily. "That's the Guide's opinion anyway. Do you trust me enough to keep trying?"

Blair could see the internal struggle being waged within Jim. Slowly, his friend nodded. "Yeah. I trust you, Chief. We'll keep trying. Slowly, though."

"Slowly," Blair agreed readily. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Jim any more than he'd already been hurt. "One step at a time, man. One step at a time."

The progress was slow, but steady. Each week, they attempted another turn of one of Jim's imaginary dials. More than a single notch at a time, and his senses rebelled. Blair forced himself to remain patient with his very impatient Sentinel, refusing to allow Jim's ill-temper on 'test days' to get under his skin.

One of them had to keep a cool head, and he could see Jim's point and understand his frustration. At this rate, the Sentinel would see fifty by the time they got his senses back on-line.

Nearly six weeks after the Sanctuary had docked at her new home, Blair came home from a run to the grocery store and a few other miscellaneous errands to find Jim up on deck. The Sentinel was facing the ocean, his back to Blair, and although Sandburg was certain Jim had sensed his approach, the older man gave no acknowledgement. Jim was seated in a deck chair, his head bent down over something held in his lap.

Curious, Blair quickly put away the perishables, then climbed back on deck and strolled over to his partner. The mysterious something in Jim's lap was already sheltered behind crossed arms.

Damn. He'd have to use the direct approach. "Hey, man. Whatcha doing?"

"Not much." Jim reached down and took a sip of the beer beside his chair. He resumed staring out at the sparkling Pacific.

Okay. Jim was in his 'macho silent type' mode. Blair could deal with that. "What you hiding there, Jim? Kinda hard to keep secrets on a boat this size, big guy." Blair kept his tone light, almost teasing. There was no quicker way to antagonize Jim than to push and pry too hard. "I'm gonna find out sooner or later, y'know," he added with a mischievous grin. "I always do."

Jim cocked his head up at him, a semi-scowl narrowing his eyes. Blair didn't blink.

After a few moments, the scowl gave way to a look of consternation. "I used to have some privacy," Jim complained, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. "A man's home... boat... should be his castle, right?"

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Blair chided pleasantly. "C'mon, Ellison. Show me."

Slowly, Jim began to uncurl his arms, then abruptly, he stopped. "Promise you won't laugh," he ordered, sounding like a small child unsure of his parent's reaction.

Blair bit back a sarcastic reply. Whatever Jim was concealing, it was obviously important to him. Solemnly, he promised, "I won't laugh. Cross my heart."

Jim lowered his arms, holding an artist's tablet in his hands. Blair peered over his back, resting one hand on Jim's shoulder. Jim needn't have worried about him laughing; laughter was the farthest thing from his mind.

The sketch was beautiful. Done in shades of charcoal and gray with tints of tropical blues and greens in just the right places, it was absolutely perfect. The view was of their harbor, but without the marina. Delicate flowers bloomed on shore beneath sheltering royal palms. The sky was a clear azure with traces of wispy clouds; both were reflected in the turquoise sea below. A single sailboat rested at anchor slightly off-center in the inlet, its white sail lowered, and two solitary figures standing on its deck.

The delicacy of the work amazed Blair. Jim had captured perfectly the peacefulness and beauty of the inlet, and at the same time, the sweet isolation they had found there. He glanced from the sketch to Jim and was further amazed at what he saw.

There was worry hovering in Jim's blue eyes.

Jim was worried that Blair wouldn't like what he'd created. Blair's heart clinched with the realization that his opinion mattered that much to such a strong, self-sufficient man. In that instant, Blair realized something about the power he held over Ellison. He possessed the power to heal Jim, to help him, yes, he'd always known that, but now he saw that he held the power to hurt, to deeply wound, as well. Jim was showing his vulnerability by allowing Blair to see the concern in his face and eyes, and Blair felt humbled by that trust.

"It's beautiful, man," he said, meaning the compliment sincerely, squeezing the shoulder beneath his hand. "I never knew you could draw like this. Did you take lessons?"

A look of sheer relief shot across Jim's face at Blair's words of approval. Then, at his question, the look turned more reflective, maybe a little sad. "A long time ago. For a while."

Blair pulled up a second chair next to him and sat down. Once again, he compared the sketch to the scene that lay before him. They were both absolutely beautiful. Whatever had happened all those years ago, Jim had talent. That much was certain. "Tell me," he said quietly.

Jim didn't answer for several minutes. His eyes were focused on the sketch, and if Blair hadn't been watching the play of emotions dancing in his eyes, he might have thought he'd zoned. Finally, in a voice laden with memories, Jim told him the story.

"Like I said, Chief, it was a long time ago. In high school." The blue eyes turned to him for an instant with a smile. "No cracks about the dark ages, kid. Remember, you can't sail this thing alone." At Blair's grin, Jim nodded, then his eyes turned back to the sketch.

"I took an art class in high school. Mrs. Tanner's class. She was really talented - had a couple of shows herself in some small galleries in San Francisco, I think - and I guess she thought I had some promise. She would help me after school when I didn't have football practice or baseball."

"Sounds like a nice lady," Blair commented with a smile.

Jim nodded. "Yeah, she was. Anyway, Mrs. Tanner wanted me to get some private instruction. She thought I might be interested in pursuing art as a major, and I seriously considered architecture at one point."

"So what happened?"

"She made the mistake of mentioning it to my father during a parent/teacher conference," Jim replied darkly. "I won't go into the details, but he made it clear that she was to have nothing more to do with me. No more classes. No after school tutoring. Nothing." Jim leaned forward and stared down into the crystal blue water. "William Ellison's son wasn't going to become an artist. I believe his term was 'fag painter'. She got the message, and so did I. This is the first thing I've painted since that day."

Blair didn't know what to say. He was angry at Jim's father, furious that the man had dared interfere with his son's obvious talent and for threatening a concerned, caring teacher. It was a miracle Jim had survived his childhood to become the decent, honorable man he was. "She was right, you know... Mrs. Tanner. You do have talent, Jim. Maybe you were this good back then; I don't know. But with your Sentinel abilities, even not at full strength, your eye for detail is amazing. As far as I'm concerned, if you want to start developing that talent now, well... that's what new lives are for, right?" Blair hoped Jim would agree as he watched his friend and waited.

As though considering the possibility, Jim didn't reply for a long time. Then, slowly, he looked over at Blair. "You think this is good?" He jerked his head down at the sketch in Blair's hands.

"Yes," Blair said seriously. "I do."

Jim nodded slowly. "Maybe I should do a little with it. It's not like I have much else to occupy my time right now."

Blair grinned broadly. "That's the attitude, man! You never know what you can do until you try, right?"

Reaching over, Jim tousled the cap of curls, already reaching Blair's ears and smiled broadly. It wouldn't be long before he'd need a haircut, if he intended to keep his new look. "All right, Chief. Why don't we run into town and have lunch today? I might pick up that set of brushes I saw at the artists' supply yesterday. On the way back, we can swing by Volcano National Park. I hear there's a major eruption brewing. Figured you might like to get a look at a real volcano." He began packing up his supplies, humming a tune beneath his breath, a smile touching the edges of his lips.

Blair couldn't explain the feeling of jubilance swelling inside him at seeing Jim so happy at finally getting the chance to fulfill a life-long ambition. Maybe it was true. Maybe every dark cloud did have a silver lining after all.

Three weeks later, Jim had an impressive assortment of canvases to show for his efforts. He had experimented with oils and pen and ink, but at last, he'd settled mainly on watercolors. The interplay of colors and the sheer liquidity of the effects appealed to him, he explained to Blair. Watercolors were perfect for Hawaii's scenery, and the necessity for control challenged his talents. They had journeyed to Volcano National Park - three times - and the view of the eruption from the observation points was spectacular. It never ceased to amaze Blair that they could get so close. Mauna Loa certainly had earned the name of 'drive-in volcano'. Their enjoyment of nature's majesty was spoiled only by news that scientists studying the eruption predicted the strengthening lava flow might soon endanger houses and roads.

Such were the whims of Pele, Blair confided solemnly as Jim sketched a scene of the molten rock cascading across a barren and black landscape.

"Who?" Jim asked, his eyes still focused on the scene before them.

"Pele, man!" Blair replied impatiently. "You know, the Hawaiian goddess of the volcano. Didn't you pay any attention at all to the exhibits up at the center?"

Jim shrugged as he looked down at his sketchpad, added more shading to the lava flow, then studied the living eruption once again. "I remember now. Appears as either a young girl or an old hag, right?"

"Right," Blair confirmed, relieved that his attempts to enlighten his Sentinel on the local culture hadn't been totally in vain. "Many people today of Hawaiian descent still revere Pele. Offerings are made to her, fish and fruit wrapped in ti leaves and hurled into the caldera while chants and dances are performed. It's believed that offending the goddess by building on sacred land or stealing away pieces of her volcano can bring bad luck."

Jim glanced up at him with a quick grin. "Hey, Chief. You sure Naomi didn't bring you here as a kid? Maybe you tucked away a volcanic rock or two in your pockets? Could explain all the bad luck that seems to follow you around."

Blair swatted at Jim's head, but the Sentinel dodged the blow deftly. "Smart ass," he muttered, but his own grin betrayed him. "No, I never came here before, and I don't own any rocks from Pele's volcano." He studied the flowing, orange-hot lava for a moment, then added quietly, "I feel sorry for all those people who may lose their homes to this eruption. To see the devastation coming, and still not be able to do anything to stop it, must be an awful feeling."

"The curse of Pele, Chief?" Jim asked, his pencil skimming lightly across the sketchpad. "This volcano's been here lifetimes longer than any roads or neighborhoods, hasn't it? Aren't you asking for trouble when you build so close to an active volcano?" He looked up at Blair and quipped, "Pele or no Pele, that's just not smart."

Blair watched a family with three young children approach the overlook, then stand watching the eruption. "Yeah, I guess. Still, it's sad to think of so many families uprooted, so much lost that can never be replaced."

"That's another good thing about life on a boat, Chief. That lava comes anywhere near us, we just sail away for cooler pastures."

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

One afternoon, Jim wandered down the beach to sketch a rock formation that had intrigued him. Although he invited Blair to accompany him, his Guide begged off. Blair waited until Jim was out of sight, then he grabbed up two of Jim's canvases, picked up the keys to their second hand Jeep, and was off on an errand of his own.

The gallery in town was cool and subtly lighted. A faint aroma of plumeria and ginger floated lightly in the air, and the polished wood floors gleamed brightly. Soft music played in the background, ancient chants from an ancient people, and Blair felt completely at home.

He wandered around the displays, sometimes nodding in approval. Whoever chose their inventory, he liked their style. Blair scanned appreciatively over the variety of styles, media, and subject matter. Some of the oil paintings were large with bold, bright colors. There were sculptures made from stone and smooth, polished tropical woods. Other paintings were quieter, featuring the beauty of the islands in miniature form.

Nothing touched the detail and pure beauty of Jim's work, though, Blair concluded, ignoring the fact that he might be slightly biased.

"May I help you?" A woman emerged from the rear room. She smiled warmly, her brown eyes dancing with life, and her long, jet black hair hanging straight down her back. Dressed in a traditional-style muu-muu that was tapered at her small waist, she was a vision of grace and beauty. Barely over five feet tall, the tiny young woman exuded a strength that was unmistakable.

Blair approached her with a warm smile of his own. "I hope so. My name's Blair... Hawking."

She declined her head slightly. "I am Leia Kolani, owner of the Kona Gallery. How might I help you?"

Blair reached into the cotton pillowcase where he'd carefully stashed Jim's paintings. "Leia - what a lovely name. Is it Hawaiian?"

She nodded, her dark eyes flashing with humor. "Yes. It means 'child of heaven'. It was also my mother's name and her mother's before her."

"I like it," Blair said approvingly. "It suits you. You seem very young to own such an impressive gallery."

The dark eyes flitted to the portrait of a distinguished gentleman hanging above the door to the back room. "My father founded the gallery thirty years ago. He passed away five years ago, and I've run it ever since." She smiled pleasantly. "So we have established our names, and that you like mine. Still, I don't know how I might help you."

Blair chuckled. She was straight-forward. He liked that, too. In fact, there was a lot about this beautiful young woman he found appealing. "True enough. Okay, here it is. My friend is an artist. Well, he has talent, I think, but I guess he's not really an artist yet. At least, he hasn't sold anything. He painted some a long time ago, but he's just found time to try again. Anyway, he doesn't know I'm here, but... " He stopped, looking at Leia curiously. She had a funny look on her face, almost as if she were trying to hold in her laughter. "What?"

"Do you always talk so much?" She burst into laughter, a light, musical sound.

Blair shook his head, grinning sheepishly. "Yeah, pretty much, I do. At least, that's what I've been told." He reached into the soft cotton pillow case he'd wrapped around Jim's canvases. "Here they are. See what you think."

Leia took the two small canvases and laid them on the glass top of the counter where the cash register stood. She leaned close to the paintings, studying them carefully without a word. Blair watched a little anxiously. He wanted this to work, wanted Jim to impress this young woman with his talent. Somehow, it was important to him that she like what his best friend had created, just as it was important to find approval for Jim's talent.

At last, she straightened up. "You say he's had no formal training?"

Blair shrugged. "Just an art class or two in high school."

"Has anyone else been offered his work?" Leia was intense now, staring hard at Blair with those liquid brown eyes.

"N... no." That question caught him off-guard. Did this mean she was interested?

"Good." She nodded with satisfaction. "He is very gifted. I have not seen such use of color, such intricate detail, in a watercolor in years. Perhaps never." She moves behind the counter, taking a black pen from the lucite holder. Pulling out a small notepad, she asks, "How can I reach you? What is your friend's name? I would like to purchase both paintings, today, if possible. We like to write up an artist bio to accompany the works. I'll need to set up a time to interview your friend."

*Whoa! Interviews? Biographies??? This is so not gonna fly with Jim!*

"Uh... " Blair hesitated. "My friend is very private. I'm not sure he'll want to give out too much information. Besides, isn't a little mystery a good thing?" He put on his best charming smile and hoped.

The pen hesitated, hovering above the paper. "This is most unusual. Some artists are very reclusive, of course, but most we deal with are anxious to establish their reputations."

"Not my artist," Blair said with a smile. "What do you absolutely need to know? And by the way, about that 'help wanted' sign in your window... "

"Jim!" Thundering footsteps on the deck above. "Jim! Where are you, man?"

Looking up from the soup he was preparing for dinner, Jim hoped the deck of the Sanctuary would take the onslaught of an excited Sandburg. "Down here, Chief!" he called. Whatever had Blair running on all cylinders, it must be major.

Moments later, a panting Blair appeared at the bottom of the steps. "There you are. Oh, man, you are so not gonna believe the afternoon I've had!"

Jim sat dumbfounded at the small dining table as he listened to Sandburg's tale. Someone wanted to buy his paintings. A beautiful someone, if he was reading Blair's enthusiasm correctly, but beneath that excitement, Jim could sense his friend's very real pride. When Blair handed him a check for far more than he'd ever imagined anyone would pay for something he'd created, he could only stare at it dumbly, unable to speak. Luckily, there was no need for words yet; Blair was still enthusiastically explaining his adventures of the afternoon.

"On top of it all... " Sandburg paused, his eyes shining. "I got a job!"

That broke Jim's silence. "A job? At the gallery, I presume?" He smiled mischievously, breaking out of his amazed silence enough to tease his friend. "With the lovely Leia?"

He could swear Blair was actually blushing! Whoever this young woman was, she certainly had captured Sandburg's attention. "Of course, with Leia. Oh, man, Jim, she's amazing. You're gonna have to come down to the gallery and meet her. She's really interested in becoming the exclusive agent for your paintings. Leia's certain they're gonna sell out as fast as she puts them on display."

"Chief," Jim began carefully. "I'm not sure this artist business is such a good idea. I mean, we're trying to keep a low profile here."

Blair spread his hands in a placating gesture. "I know... I know, man. That's why I told Leia you wouldn't do an artist's bio or interview and why you just sign your pieces J.K. She promises she won't give out any really specific information about you; just enough general stuff to satisfy her clients. You two can talk and decide what's okay and what's off-limits. It's totally your decision. We can use the money, right? I mean, we can't live off your savings forever."

The wide blue eyes pleaded with Jim, and he had to fight off a smile. "Okay, Chief. I'll talk with Leia." Cocking his head, he studied his friend carefully. "She's that special, huh?"

Blair was positively beaming. "Oh, yeah, man! Special doesn't even begin to cover it!"

Jim smiled back, but an uneasy feeling had begun to gnaw at his gut. Take this slow, Sandburg. I don't have a good feeling about this one. I don't think there's a snowball's chance in hell that you will, but please, kid, take it slow.

Blair watched with more than a bit of nervousness as Jim and Leia talked over coffee at the small table in the back of the gallery. His eyes cut from one to the other as his best friend and the woman to whom he was finding himself dangerously attracted conversed. Jim was surprisingly open, giving Leia just enough information to satisfy her requirements while not giving away anything really personal. And you think I'm good at obfuscation, Ellison, he thought with a silent chuckle. You're the true master of saying everything and nothing at the same time.

Leia seemed captivated by his tall, handsome partner, and if Jim had been anybody else but... well, Jim... Blair might have been concerned. If ever anyone epitomized the word honor, it was Jim; he had absolutely nothing to worry about with Jim and Leia.

As Leia explained the commission system to Jim, the Sentinel's gaze locked with Blair's. Jim smiled warmly and added a quick wink. Obviously, he approved of Leia. Somehow, that knowledge sent a shiver of excitement through Blair. He and Jim had clashed over each other's taste in women too often. This time, after all they'd been through, it would be so nice to have a normal, easy relationship.

If there could be a relationship. Blair turned back to studying Leia. She caught his gaze, and her eyes sparkled. God, she was so beautiful! But he knew next to nothing about her. Still, he was starting work tomorrow; surely that would give him the opportunity to get to know her better. Much, much better, Blair hoped with a guilty smile.

"I can't believe how Jim's work has caught on," Leia remarked as she flipped through her order book. "He's selling equally well with tourists and locals alike, and that's a lucrative position to be in." She turned her large, dark brown eyes on Blair with a smile. "I like how you've reorganized the print collection. It's much more eye-catching now."

Blair climbed down from the stepladder he'd been using to hang the last print. "Thanks. I hope the customers agree with you."

Leia rested her elbows on the countertop and regarded Blair thoughtfully. "Not to have had any experience working in an art gallery, you certainly have caught on fast. You're great with the Hawaiiana collection, too. That's an area I am still learning. It was my father's specialty. I was always more into contemporary art." Leia smiled at Blair, as her voice turned teasing. "I did a good day's work hiring you, Mr. Hawking."

Bowing gracefully, Blair straightened up with a grin. "Thank you, m'lady. I was wondering... " Blair hesitated, suddenly unsure of the question he'd been wanting to ask all week. "It's almost six now. Would you like to have dinner after we close up tonight?"

There was no hesitation on Leia's part. "That would be wonderful, Blair. I know a great little Chinese place. Do you like Chinese?"

Blair laughed. "Never touch the stuff. Not more than once a week, anyway." He'd have to slip away and let Jim know he wouldn't be in for dinner tonight, but under the circumstances, he didn't think his roommate would mind the late notice. Jim seemed to approve of Leia as he hadn't any girl Blair had dated before.

Over the next two months, Jim watched the gradual changes in his partner with concealed concern and a mixture of happiness for his friend and a touch of Blessed Protector worry. It began when Blair scoured the classified ads for a used vehicle he could pick up at a cheap price. He was determined, he claimed, not to inconvenience Jim by needing the Jeep to travel between the marina and the gallery. When the younger man refused to yield to Jim's argument that he really didn't need the Jeep that much anyway, Jim gave in. At least partially. He convinced Sandburg to raise his sights a little. But it wasn't a total victory for the Sentinel. Blair's new mode of transportation ended up being a slightly used Honda.

Motorcycle.

Sandburg loved it, and his Sentinel was ambivalent. On the plus side, it was more reliable than the kid's old Volvo had been on its best day. On the downside, it was unarguably more dangerous. But it made Sandburg happy, so Jim tried his best to keep his doubts and concerns to himself. After all, he'd ridden bikes himself for years without an accident. But Sandburg was... well, Sandburg. He couldn't help but worry.

Especially when Blair was staying out later and later in the evenings. Never all night, so Jim assumed he and Leia were not sleeping together - yet - but their almost nightly dates never ended until well after midnight. Of course, he could be wrong, and the relationship might have progressed farther than he'd guessed. In which case, he had even more cause for concern.

He'd seen Blair's heart broken too many times before, and Jim wasn't anxious to repeat the experience. Jim had discovered long before that his Blessed Protector instincts definitely extended to trying to protect his Guide's heart as well as his health.

During the night, he'd lie awake, considering their options. Who was he kidding? Were there really any options?

He had come up with a couple of scenarios.

Scenario one: One day when he contacted Simon, he'd get some good news for a change. Owl would have been caught; Brackett would be in prison. They could come home.

Then, Blair would have to tell Leia the truth. Jim knew instinctively that the young Hawaiian woman would never leave her home. What would Blair choose? To stay with Leia? To leave with Jim?

Jim didn't care for scenario one.

Scenario two: Simon never had good news. They stayed on the big island of Hawaii, and Blair was free to be with Leia. Jim was...

Jim could never quite complete scenario two. And try as he might, Jim couldn't dream up a plausible third scenario where everyone lived happily ever after. Hell, maybe there was no such thing as a happy ending anyway.

As he tossed and turned late into the night, Jim struggled to find the answers to the questions that had been plaguing him since they'd settled the Sanctuary into her berth.

Who was Jim Ellison if he couldn't be a cop? What was Sandburg's happiness worth to him? What sacrifices was he willing to make for their relationship?

There were no easy answers.

The passing weeks turned into months, and still there were no new revelations for Jim. His regular calls to Simon didn't help; there was no sign of either Owl or Brackett.

Blair and Leia were spending more and more time together, but Jim still had the distinct impression that Sandburg was holding back, both from Leia and from him. In fact, Blair had grown quieter the past few weeks, more introspective, almost moody. The problem was obvious, even to a normally emotionally-dense Sentinel.

Sandburg was in love and didn't know what to do about it.

Jim watched Blair walk slowly along the crescent beach that began beside their marina. He didn't need his Sentinel vision at full-strength to see the pain that was so apparent in his best friend's posture - the bowed head... the stooped shoulders... the slow, sad steps.

Jim's heart tightened with empathy as the decision he'd been wrestling with for weeks suddenly forced became clear. What choice was there to make, really? A slow smile crept across his face, his worried blue eyes becoming gradually brighter with a glowing joy. Turning quickly and jogging from the deck of the Sanctuary to the pier, Jim broke into a run as he headed toward the beach.

What the hell had taken him so long?

Blair looked up at Jim's approach, and Jim knew before he spoke what his first question would be. The kid didn't disappoint him.

"Did you hear good news from Simon?"

"No, nothing yet." He shrugged and stared at Blair, trying to gauge his friend's reaction. "I'm not sure they'll find either of them any time soon, Chief."

Jim felt the soft blue eyes studying him and held still under the careful scrutiny. Blair asked, "You don't seem particularly worried about that, buddy."

Jim shrugged and began strolling slowly down the beach. Gentle, crystal waves washed over their feet, and the sand was soft and warm. "Life goes on. I've had lots of turnabouts in my life, Chief. Been down quite a few roads I never intended traveling. I've managed to adjust before. I can adjust again."

Blair's eyes widened in obvious surprise. "Just like that? You're ready to admit we may never get back to Cascade that easily?"

"Would staying here be so bad?" Jim didn't bother waiting for an answer to his question before adding, "Besides, I've been thinking. What would you think about staying here even if Owl and Brackett get captured eventually? Putting down roots here permanently - starting a new life?"

Blair was struck speechless.

"Look, Chief... " Jim glanced around the beach, then grasped Blair's arm firmly, escorting him toward a small grove of palms. "Sit down. It's time we talked about some things."

Mutely, Blair sat on the soft sand beneath the shady palms. Jim eased gracefully down beside him. He needed the time to gather his thoughts, to ease into what he needed to say to his best friend. Jim had to bite back a smile at Blair's stunned silence. It wasn't often he was able to catch the quick-witted younger man off-guard.

They sat for several moments without speaking. Jim kept his eyes focused on the line of breaking waves several yards off-shore. Why was it so easy to talk with Sandburg about... practically everything... but so hard for him to open up about the things that really mattered?

"Chief," Jim began at last, "I want you to tell me the truth here, okay?" He turned to stare hard into Blair's puzzled blue eyes, the exact color of the clear tropical sky overhead. "How do you feel about Leia?"

That obviously startled his Guide. Blair's heart rate soared, and even without the full use of his senses, Jim could hear his breathing quicken. "What? How do I feel about Leia?"

Jim shook his head. "Don't answer a question with a question, Darwin. I want a straight answer here. How do you feel about Leia?"

"I... I... We're just good friends, man. That's all."

Jim ran his hand through his hair in frustration. How could someone so brilliant be so dense sometimes? "I didn't ask where your relationship stands right now, kid. Listen carefully. How do you feel about Leia?"

He could hear Blair's breath of surrender. The curl-topped head dropped, the wisps of longer hair falling forward around Blair's lowered face. A quiet voice whispered, "I... I think I love her, Jim."

Finally. The corners of Jim's lips twitched slightly as he forced down a smile. "That's what I thought. So, Sandburg, why are you still *'just good friends'*?"

A flash of anger touched the azure sky eyes as Blair's head whipped around. "I don't think that's your business, man!"

Calmly, Jim said, "Yeah, Chief, I think it is. Whatever affects you, affects me. And vice versa. We passed the point a hell of a long time ago when we could live separate lives. Now, under these circumstances, that connection is even more powerful. We've gotta trust each other, Blair. I need to know what's going on with you, just like I know you have a right to know what's happening with me. We're all we've got, kid. Understand?"

For a long moment, Blair didn't answer, and Jim felt a tiny flame of worry flickering in his gut. What if Blair didn't follow the path he'd laid out for this conversation to take? What if Sandburg had completely different ideas about their futures?

Then, Blair blinked twice and nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I understand."

Jim reached out and ruffled Blair's soft curls affectionately. "So, answer my question, Chief. If you love Leia, why are you still just friends."

A cloud passed across the sun just as the light dimmed in Blair's eyes. Jim felt, as well as heard, the sad sigh as Blair drew a deep breath and released it slowly. "Because it wouldn't be fair to her, man. I can't start a relationship with someone as... special... as Leia then just pack up and leave. 'Sorry, it's been great, but I'm heading back to my real life now.' I can't do that to her, Jim. I won't."

His friend's integrity never failed to amaze Jim. "You're a good man, Blair Sandburg," he said quietly, squeezing the younger man's shoulder, then Jim let his arm drape loosely across Blair's shoulders. Blair flashed a brilliant smile, but Jim didn't allow him time to speak. "We don't have to go back."

Blair stared at him. "You're serious."

"Yeah. I'm perfectly serious." Jim wished he had Blair's gift with words. It was so hard to explain exactly why he was so certain about this decision. "Look, Chief, I've been thinking a lot recently about exactly what it is that makes me a Sentinel. Of course, the five heightened senses. That's a given. Beyond that, though... "

Blair was watching with obvious fascination now. His head was slightly cocked to one side, and his eyes glowed with excitement. Jim grinned a bit at the expression of intense interest on his friend's face. "You're the real expert here, but I think what makes me a Sentinel is helping people. I know you have this idea of 'protecting the tribe', but frankly, I've never been so sure about that." Jim leaned back against the palm tree and stared out to sea again. "Honestly, the only single person to whom I feel any enormous alliance or instinctive drive to protect is you, Chief. Otherwise, I seem to want to help anyone in need. I mean, when we're away from the city, I still feel the need to jump right in whenever a situation arises, right?"

Blair's expression was thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I never thought of it that way before, but... "

Jim plunged back in. He was afraid if he let Sandburg get wound up, he'd never get the chance to finish what he'd started. "So, if there is no set 'tribal imperative', Chief, then I can function effectively as a Sentinel anywhere. Peru... Cascade... Hawaii. My tribe is wherever I choose to be. Would you say that's a logical conclusion?"

Blair nodded mutely.

Jim seized the opportunity. "Then we don't have to leave. We can stay right here, regardless of the outcome of the investigation. You can let your relationship with Leia progress, or not, but the choice will be yours."

Blair's silence ended abruptly. "But what about everything else, man? Your job. Your friends. The loft... "

"You'd be giving up those things, too." Jim watched him carefully as the emotions played across Blair's face.

"Yeah, but Cascade's always been your home, man. Me, I've lived so many places, I've lost count. Can you really give up your home?"

Jim smiled gently, his arm tightening around the slim shoulders. "A very wise man told me something a lifetime ago, standing on a balcony looking over the city we were about to leave. 'Home isn't a place. It's a feeling of safety, of belonging. Of being cared for and valued. Wherever we end up, Jim, no matter how far we go, we'll always be home.'"

Turning Blair slightly to face him, Jim asked, "Did you mean that, Chief?" When Blair nodded, his eyes glistening brightly, Jim said quietly, "You were right. You're here and I'm here. That makes us home. I want to do this, kid. You've sacrificed so damn much for me. No, don't argue. I know what you've given up for me. You could have finished that dissertation a long time ago. You could have gone to Borneo. You could have a real office in a university somewhere, those three letters after your name, and a flourishing career as a teacher and researcher. Instead... " Jim laughed dryly. "You've got me. Not a hell of a lot to show for so much work, kid, but I swear to you, I'm going to try to make it worth all you've given up."

"Jim... " Blair opened his mouth to speak, but Jim lightly placed two fingers across his lips.

"Shh...Hush." Leaning closer, Jim held both Blair's shoulders in his firm hands as he stared intently into his friend's waiting eyes. "Let me do this, Blair. I want to give you this. God knows, you deserve some happiness in your life, and don't tell me that you're happy being my Guide. I know you are, but there's more out there for you, and all I want is for you to have this chance at finding it. Don't hold back from Leia because of me. If you love her, go for it! If it works out, we'll build a new life here. You won't be losing me or letting me down or any other nonsensical reasons you can come up with. I owe you a hell of a lot more, but this is all I have to give you. Please, Blair. Let me do this for you... and for me."

"You're sure?" Blair asked, his voice unsteady.

Solemnly, Jim nodded. "I'm absolutely sure. No doubts, Chief."

Slowly, a wide smile spread across Blair's face. His lips parted, as if to speak, but no words emerged. Instead, two strong arms wrapped around Jim's shoulders, holding on tightly. Letting go slowly of the breath he'd been holding as he waited for Blair's reaction, Jim gently drew his Guide closer, embracing him with all the care and tenderness of a lover... with all the devotion and love of a Sentinel.

Jim relaxed fully, his heart at peace. He lowered his head to rest his forehead on Blair's bare shoulder, relieved to have his decision accepted and behind him at last. Inhaling, he smiled softly as he caught the scent that belonged only to his Guide, and for a moment, Jim regretted that he could not open his senses fully to experience Blair to the depths of his being. The Sentinel had accepted long ago that to touch his Guide deeply with his senses was an integral part of who he was, of what he was. It served to imprint one upon the other, to reinforce the steel bond already stretching between them.

"Thanks, man," Blair murmured, and Jim understood that the gratitude was not for the closeness of the moment, but for the understanding that had brought it about. He didn't respond, not because he lacked the words to say 'you're welcome', but because there was no need.

One sacrificed for the other, according to the tides and whims of fate.

There was no reason for thanks or gratitude. The cycle simply *was*, as much a part of their existence as oxygen, food, and water.

So Jim merely held Blair, willing to do so for as long as the younger man needed the closeness and the comfort. Another day, Sandburg would once again be called upon to sacrifice for his Sentinel. This day, Jim was content that, for once, he was the one able to give back to the one who had given him so very much.

Blair was barely able to contain his excitement. Jim's talk with him on the beach the week before had shaken him to the depths of his soul. That his friend was willing to make such a sacrifice in order to give him the chance at happiness he glimpsed whenever he looked at Leia amazed and humbled Blair. He'd spent the last week watching Leia, trying to make sure he wasn't misreading her signals. Her warm smile... the easy laughter they shared... the glow in her dark eyes when she looked at him and spoke his name.

Surely, he wasn't mistaken. There was something there, something simmering just beneath the surface of their relationship thus far.

Tonight was the night. They had to work late at the gallery listing and displaying new works by a talented man over on Kauai. When they finished, Blair intended to invite Leia for a midnight stroll on the beach. Where that would lead, he could only hope to know.

By the time the final painting was in place, midnight had come and gone. Dinner had been tacos from the Mexican place two blocks over. Leia was stretching her tired arms above her head, and Blair knew if he didn't act now, the opportunity would vanish.

"Leia?" He glanced outside, relieved to find the night still clear, a million stars twinkling overhead. "It's a great night. How about a walk on the beach before we head home?"

Her expressive, dark brown eyes glanced at the clock on the wall, and a flicker of doubt crossed her face.

*Please, please, please... * Blair chanted inwardly.

He was rewarded with a smile. "It is a gorgeous evening, and I guess I could stand to unwind before heading home." She stood up from the stool where she'd perched as she recorded the new inventory. "Okay, Blair. Let's go." She retrieved her small purse from behind the counter.

Ten minutes later, the locked and dark gallery was behind them, and the dark, mysterious Pacific lay ahead. Leia perched lightly behind him on the Honda, her long hair trailing behind her like a magic carpet. When they arrived at the beach, Leia laughingly kicked off her shoes, and Blair followed her example. They abandoned their footwear in the sand and waded ankle deep into the warm tropical water.

Leia's long cotton skirt clung to her wet calves. The breeze blew her black hair back from her face, and the moon touched her milky skin with a caress of gold. She stopped, as if feeling his gaze, and turned to face Blair. Tilting her face upward, she gazed into Blair's eyes, and for that instant, he was certain he'd never seen anything quite so perfect. His heart froze in his chest.

"Blair... " Leia whispered, her voice barely rising above the sound of the waves kissing the shore.

"No," Blair murmured, lowering his face to hers. "Don't... "

Their lips were mere inches apart, close enough for Blair to taste the sweetness of her breath... feel the warmth of her lips. He closed his eyes, praying that she wouldn't feel the pounding of his heart, and leaned over her.

A hand on his chest pushed him away gently. "No... I can't... " The sorrow in her voice broke Blair's heart.

Blair's eyes flew open. "It's all right, Leia. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I didn't mean to move too fast... I... "

She shook her head slowly, her long black hair dancing on the wind. "It's not you, Blair." Her eyes grew misty with wetness. "This is all my fault. I thought... " She turned away quickly, to face the sea.

"Leia? What is it? What's your fault? I may have read your signals wrong. Maybe you're not attracted to me, I don't know. Just tell me." Blair felt a growing emptiness inside, and his chest hurt like hell. What was happening here? "Please, Leia. Tell me."

She turned back to face him. Two tears trickled down her brown cheek, as if racing to find the comfort of the sand below. "Yes, Blair, I am very attracted to you. You have not read my signals wrong at all." A tiny, quivering smile touched her lips, and Blair had never seen sadder eyes than those gazing up at him. "I have never met a man to whom I was more attracted, but it cannot be."

Frustrated, Blair kicked at the sand, sending it flying in a small cloud of crystals. "Why not? Don't tell me you have a wicked stepmother at home, waiting to approve of all prospective boyfriends!" He stared hard into her tear-filled eyes, the huge, empty hole inside him expanding by the second.

"Not a wicked stepmother, Blair. A husband." Her head bowed low, her hair framing her face in a dark curtain, hiding her face from Blair's view.

Blair stumbled backwar