Date: 1st Feb 2001
Size: 18,200 words, 100K
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just temporarily poaching them from Pet Fly. Spoilers: Sentinel Too, references to Switchman, Attraction, Flight, TSbyBS Rating: PG (language)
Warnings: AU
Category: AU, Series, Angst, Smarm
Series/Sequel: True Dreams (2). Sequel to Dreamshatter. Summary: Jim comes back from the hospital and faces reality.

Notes and thanks are at the end of part 10.

True Dreams: Resolutions

(part 1)

by Kathryn Andersen

Home at last, Jim thought as he and Blair walked the few remaining steps to the door of the loft. Finally released from the hospital after his alarming and unexpected coma, he could hardly wait for Blair to open the door.

The stark and almost bare loft hit him like a slap in the face. Apart from the boxes on the floor, one chair in front of the fireplace, and a few other bits and pieces, the living area was empty. "Shit!" Jim exclaimed involuntarily. He'd forgotten. Forgotten the way he'd kicked Blair out of the loft when Alex had come to town and put his Sentinel instincts on overdrive. Forgotten how he'd removed all the furniture, to give himself "space". Forgotten the visions he'd had, which had started it all: Alex's spotted jaguar, the dream of killing Blair-as-wolf. He'd had other dreams since then that had taken their place. Dreams he'd had in the coma, so vivid he'd thought they were real. When he'd told Blair the last one, Blair had convinced him it was just a nightmare. But his subconscious obviously hadn't been convinced.

"Hey, don't be mad, man," Blair said. "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans -- like planning to unpack."

"Sandburg, I'm not mad at you," Jim said. He stepped further into the loft. "I'm mad at myself." They'd been too busy before, chasing after Alex, to think or talk about what had happened. But their unresolved issues were still there, waiting, like the emptiness of the loft.

"What for?" Blair sounded genuinely puzzled.

Jim turned around to face his partner. "You died, Blair!" Jim burst out. "You died, and it was my fault. I killed you."

"Whoa, Mister Guilt Trip, that's a bit much, even for you," Blair said, raising his hands, pushing the idea away. "Alex killed me. You had nothing to do with it!"

"I had nothing to do with it -- and that's why you died," Jim said. "I should have protected you. Instead, I drove you away." Jim sighed. "I should have known when I saw the wolf. I should have known."

"The wolf at the fountain?" Blair said. "But that was after --"

"No, before then. After I kept on seeing the spotted jaguar, I dreamed... I was in the jungle, hunting for something. I saw the temple of the Sentinels, and walking in front of it, a wolf. I shot it. And it turned into you. I killed you."

"But you brought me back," Blair said softly, touching his arm. "You brought me back."

Jim looked down at his partner and clasped his arms. "But what did I bring you back to? This can't go on, Blair." He knew he'd said the wrong thing when Blair's face blanched and his heart-rate jumped through the roof.

"Do you want me to leave?" Blair said, trying to step away from Jim.

Jim tightened his grip on Blair. "No!" Jim said. "I need you. As my guide, my partner, my friend." Jim let go abruptly and put his hands through his cropped hair. "So why the hell do I keep on pushing you away?" He could tell Blair wasn't completely reassured because his heart was still pounding slightly fast.

Blair summoned a quirky smile. "Fear-based responses, remember?"

What do you fear? Incacha's voice spoke in Jim's memory, and he remembered what he'd seen at that point in his vision in Sierra Verde: Blair dead at the fountain. "I know what I'm afraid of," Jim said grimly. I'm afraid of losing you. But he didn't say it aloud. And I'm afraid that staying with me will destroy you. But he didn't say that aloud either.

"You're afraid of betrayal," Blair said in a flat voice. His heart-rate had jumped again.

Jim's heart clenched -- because Blair was right, too; utterly, horribly right. He remembered what he'd said to Blair back then: I need a partner I can trust. "I talk about trust, but it's me who can't be trusted!" Jim exclaimed. "Alex killed you, and I was making up to her like a dog in heat! This from me, who was reaming you out for just talking to her, for not telling me about her! Talk about betrayal...!"

"You were acting on instinct, Jim," Blair pointed out. But he sounded almost as much as if he were trying to reassure himself as Jim.

"On instinct? I was acting on instinct with Laura, if you remember, yet I still managed to arrest her," Jim retorted.

"Laura wasn't a Sentinel," Blair said reasonably.

"Stop making excuses for me, dammit!" Jim yelled. "Why must you be so calm? Why the hell won't you get mad at me?"

"How can I get mad at you?" Blair yelled back, finally provoked. "You seem to be doing a better job of it than I ever could!" He jabbed his fingers in Jim's direction. "What is this -- some sort of preemptive strike? You've gotta be so in control you've got to get mad for me too? Maybe I just don't react that way, huh, Jim? Ever consider that? But no, just because Jim copes by getting mad, I've got to get mad too?"

"Blair, I --" Jim's face was bleak.

"I'm not you, Jim!" Blair continued. "I'm not like you! I'm me! Weird Sandburg, who lives in the Sandburg Zone, whom you ignore until you've got a problem, and ignore me half the time even then! Sandburgs should be seen and not heard, is that it? I'm not a child, Jim! And I'm not your freakin' sidekick!"

"Oh, God," Jim strangled out. His heart was a tangle of anguish, despair, guilt, and fear. I've blown it. I've blown it. He's going to leave. He's going to leave me. It was just too much. His head pounded. The adrenaline rush of his anger deserted him, and his real tiredness was revealed. He felt his strength drain out of him. Barely back from the hospital, he simply didn't have the physical stamina to cope. He staggered over to the wall and sat down, leaning against it. "I'm sorry," he said, head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He couldn't stop saying it. "I'm sorry." He was trembling with reaction and fatigue. "I'm sorry."

But deep in his heart he knew: sorry just wasn't good enough.

When Jim turned his back on him, Blair just knew he'd blown it. Things had gone wrong from the moment they'd stepped inside. All he'd been thinking about on the drive home was how good it would to be home, how good it would be to have Jim home where he belonged. When Jim had exploded like that -- it had brought back all those old fears, ones that he thought had been banished with his rebirth, washed away by his death; the uncertainty of his life with Jim, the unpredictability of what could happen in the future. Yes, he had been too busy, madly researching into what had laid Jim low, and too damn tired, hovering over Jim at the hospital, having to be dragged away by Simon. Of course he hadn't had time in all that to finish unpacking properly, but there was also that tiny bit of uncertainty -- how long before he would have to pack it all up again?

Then Jim had gone all guilt-trippy. No reasoning with him. But when he'd said "This can't go on," Blair figured he was about to get his marching orders -- again. Then Jim had said he'd needed him. Whoa! Then guilt trip round two. Dammit, didn't Jim understand that if it wasn't Sentinel instinct, if it wasn't something explainable, then there would be nothing to stand on? Because if your best friend could throw you out for no reason at all, then the sun rose in the west, it snowed in the summertime, and solid ground was made of water.

So he'd lost his temper. If Jim wanted mad, he'd get mad.

Then Jim had made a strangled noise and turned his back on him, walked over to the wall and sat down.

But - what the hell was Jim saying? I'm sorry? And he was shaking. Oh my God, what have I done? He's only just got back from the hospital, for God's sake! Blair ignored completely the fact that he himself hadn't been out of the hospital for much longer than a week; it didn't seem important. Blair rushed to Jim's side, and knelt beside him. He touched him on one arm. "Jim, Jim, it's okay, really, it's okay," he said, over and over again.

Jim lifted his head and turned his face to Blair. "You're humouring me, Sandburg. It's not okay." Jim looked exhausted, as if he'd done ten rounds with Mike Tyson and lost; but more than that, emotionally wasted, eyes dull and bleak, as if he were on a serial killer case with no clues, and just looked at his fifth dead body in a row. But it wasn't like that either. There was no frustration in his face, only despair.

Jim stared at Blair as if he were trying to memorise his face. He lifted up one hand and reached towards Blair, then stopped. Blair could see his nostrils flare, and his head tilt just that little bit that meant that he was listening. But his eyes never left Blair's face.

"What is it, Jim?" What had his Sentinel senses picked up on?

But Jim didn't say anything. He just brought his hand forward to touch the side of Blair's face, then moved his hand down along his face, then neck, to Blair's left shoulder, touching him like a blind man tracing out the lineaments of his form. Blair realized it was him that Jim was focused on, focused with every sense. Why?

Then Jim spoke. "I wouldn't blame you if you want to leave," he said. "But please - please don't."

Jim thought he wanted to leave? Jim didn't want him to go? "God, Jim," Blair exclaimed, "leaving is the last thing I want!" He touched Jim's right arm with his left hand. "I thought you wanted me to go."

"God no!" Jim's grip on Blair tightened. "Are you sure you -- you want to stay?"

To see Jim so uncertain made his heart ache. "Positive. Absolutely," Blair assured him. "Are you sure you want me to?"

Jim laughed with relief and pulled Blair into a hug. "Absolutely," he said.

Blair returned the hug, grinning. "We are a pair, aren't we?"

"That we are," Jim said. "A pair of fools." But he was smiling. He mussed up Blair's hair, and let him go. But he left one arm over Blair's shoulders, and Blair put his arm around Jim's back. They both leaned back against the wall, and sat in silence.

"You know what we need to do?" Jim said at last.

"We need to talk," Blair said.

"That too," Jim returned. "But first we need to get the furniture out of the basement."