Rating: PG

Notes: The events in this story take place immediately after the ones in Never Shall I Fail My Comrades, but could probably be read as a stand alone. This was inspired by events in real life and the hard decisions we all must face at some point. Except for Methos! ;)

Summary: After their visit to Arlington, Jim and Blair talk about the future. And live.

Forever Will I Stand Beside You

They left Washington, D.C., at ten after six in the morning, on a flight out of Dulles, and then they changed planes in Chicago to continue home. It was a long, uneventful flight.

Jim hardly said a word the entire time, still dealing with the emotional impact of saying his final goodbyes to his fallen men, and his late night talk with Blair. Blair was worried about him, but every time he started to speak, Jim would give him a reassuring smile and Blair would close his mouth. No, now was not the time to talk, but later they would.

Blair drifted off to sleep somewhere over the heartland, and Jim took the opportunity to study him. Blair’s hair was pulled back, but a curl or two had escaped, and the ends of the curls grazed Blair’s jaw line. His face was relaxed in sleep, but Jim could see the minute beginnings of the wrinkles Blair would have in the future; there were the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the worry lines across his forehead, the frown lines near his mouth. There were also dark shadows under Blair’s eyes, a reminder of the sleep they both had lost the night before, talking and making love.

Leaning his head back against the seat, Jim closed his eyes and remembered.

***

The Night Before...

It was dark when they got back to the hotel room. Jim slipped off his coat and hung it up neatly in the closet, and then picked up Blair’s from the bed where it had been dropped, and hung it up also.

Jim sat down heavily on the king sized bed and heard the flush from the bathroom.

“Thanks,” Blair said. “Wasn’t sure I was gonna make it!”

“You should have gone before we left.”

“Public restrooms are not my favorite thing, trust me.”

Blair sat down beside Jim on the bed and rested his hand on Jim’s thigh.

“How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay, Chief.”

“Yeah?”

Jim nodded in response.

“Hungry?”

Jim sighed. “No, not really.” Jim toed off his shoes and stretched his feet. “Why don’t you order something from room service. I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Okay,” Blair answered, reaching for the room service menu.

As much as he wanted to be near Jim, Blair knew Jim needed some time alone to think about the day’s events. He waited until he heard the shower start, and then ordered some dinner, enough for two, because he knew that once the food arrived, Jim would probably have changed his mind about being hungry.

Waiting for Jim to finish his shower and the food to arrive, Blair changed into a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt, folding his dress clothes and carefully putting them in his overnight bag. He took out his journal, a new one he’d found in the gift shop at the Cascade airport, and grabbed the courtesy pen from the bedside table.

The blank page stared back at him, and the pen was idle in his hand. In the past, the blank paper had soothed him, encouraged the words to flow forth, but not this time, the emotions of the day were too close to the surface.

Never having really lost anybody close to him, with the exception of Sweet Roy, Blair only had the vaguest of ideas how it would feel to have survived the loss of a group of friends, of men he was responsible for. Jim had held that grief and guilt inside for a dozen years, and those deaths would always remain a scar on his heart, but at least now, maybe, he would start to heal.

Jim came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water clinging to his shoulders and his chest. He saw Blair sitting at the small table, the end of the pen stuck in his mouth as he stared out into the darkness. Setting his clothes on the end of the bed, Jim reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a handful of change. He dropped all but one coin on the dresser, startling Blair.

“Oh! I didn’t hear the water go off.”

“You were thinking pretty hard there, Chief.” Jim held out the coin. “Penny for them.”

Blair smiled and took the coin. “Nothing much. Just stuff.”

“Okay.”

Blair liked the fact that Jim usually backed off when he had thoughts to process, that Jim wasn’t like him, and didn’t feel the need to know everything he was thinking. Sometimes Blair wished he could back off, but maybe it was a guide thing, the need to know every single thing his Sentinel was thinking and feeling. At least, that was how he was justifying it to himself today.

A knock at the door shook Blair out of his musings, and he looked at Jim’s back as Jim retreated into the bathroom to dress while Blair answered the door.

Minutes later, Blair was uncovering his dinner choices when Jim returned.

“French Onion soup?”

“Uh-huh,” Blair answered, picking up a garlic breadstick and taking a nice big bite.

“Fettuccine Alfredo? Heart attack on a plate? Weren’t you just—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Blair said with a smile. “Wanna share?”

His answer was a matching grin.

Jim ate the soup while Blair ate the salad, and they shared the breadsticks and fettuccine. Blair hadn’t ordered any beer or wine, thinking that with them flying the next day, and the high emotions, they wouldn’t need the added headache. He went for ice and a soda from the machine for Jim, while he drank ice water.

After finishing his share of the dinner, Jim sat back and wiped his mouth.

“Hit the spot?”

“Yeah,” Jim said, leaning over to kiss Blair’s cheek. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing,” Blair said with a shrug. Taking care of Jim was second nature, it was just like taking care of himself, only with fringe benefits. “So, you think I could get a foot massage in return?”

Pretending to think it over, Jim looked thoughtful for about a second, before caving like he always did where Blair was concerned.

“Okay. You get the lotion, and I’ll set the tray outside.”

They met back on the bed, Blair sliding off his sweatpants and propping himself up on two of the pillows. Jim took the lotion from Blair, squeezed some into his palm and set the bottle against his leg. Warming the lotion between his hands, Jim watched Blair smile at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Blair answered. “Just thinking about how much I love you.”

“And?” Jim slowly started massaging Blair’s right foot, kneading the heel gently.

“And how glad I am you love me.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Whatcha been thinking about so hard since we got back?”

Blair was silent under Jim’s gaze, his eyes on Jim’s rhythmically moving hands as they caressed his feet, the fingers sliding between his toes.

“Did you...do you...” Blair sighed, then spit out the rest of his question. “Do you want to be buried with your men?”

Jim’s hands stopped moving while their eyes met.

“Why are you asking?”

“Well, it’s just...with us being together, I just...just wanted to know.”

Pouring out more lotion, Jim then picked up Blair’s left foot and started massaging it.

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t belong with them anymore.”

Nodding, Blair processed Jim’s answer.

“Yeah, I guess there’s some Ellison family plot or something.”

“Yeah.”

They were silent then, the only sound Jim’s hands sliding over Blair’s feet.

“Are you—”

“I’m not—”

Blair chucked. “Go ahead.”

Jim took a deep breath and then said, “But I’m not gonna be buried there.”

“Oh? Then where?”

“I want to be cremated.”

Jim stood up and went to wash his hands, leaving Blair speechless on the bed.

“Cremated?” Blair asked, knowing Jim would hear him.

Wiping his hands on a towel, Jim came back to the bed.

“Yeah, and I want my ashes scattered into the ocean.”

“Oh.”

“You seem surprised,” Jim said, dropping the towel on the dresser and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Well, we’ve never really talked about any of this before.”

“No, we haven’t,” Jim said, taking Blair’s hand. “But I guess we should. What about you? What do you want?”

“I don’t like the idea of being stuck in the ground. I mean, I spent my whole life on the ground, why, after I’m dead, would I want to be under it, you know?” Blair laughed nervously. “Cremated would be okay. Scattered to the winds. Free.”

Jim squeezed his hand tightly. “Any place special?”

Looking off thoughtfully, Blair spoke softly. “There’s this mountain range, the Jayawijaya mountains. Jaya Peak, it’s the highest in Irian Jaya. It is so beautiful, man, covered year round in snow. It’s beautiful, it’s spiritual. I always thought about going back there one day...” His voice trailed off, as if he were imagining that place.

“And now?”

Looking back at Jim, eyes bright with emotion, Blair said, “Now my place is with you. Where you go, I go. In death as in life.”

Unable to answer, Jim leaned forward and kissed Blair softly on the lips, more reassuring than sexual. Unwilling to lose contact, Jim lay down next to Blair and wrapped his arms around the man he loved. They stayed like that for a long time, letting the silence soothe their emotions.

***

Current Time

They landed on time, collected their carry-on bags and waited their turn to disembark the plane. They had driven themselves, so there was no one to meet them, and with no checked bags, they were quickly out of the airport, into the truck and on their way home. They stopped for take out at Fajita Cabana because neither wanted to cook.

Eating their dinner at the table, Blair took a sip of his beer and then said, seriously, “What would happen if one of us got sick?”

“What?”

“What if one of us got sick? You know, like with cancer or something. What would happen then?”

Shrugging, Jim answered logically, “We’d fight it together.”

“And if it didn’t work?”

Understanding at last that Blair needed a promise, Jim took his hand. “We’d leave. Go somewhere. Peru. Go back to the Temple of the Sentinels.”

“And we’d stay there?”

“Forever.”

They linked fingers then, and kissed softly. Then Blair passed Jim the guacamole, and Jim handed Blair the salsa. And life went on, a little brighter, a little lighter, but it went on.

The end.

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