Title: Gifts

Author/pseudonym: Kata Avalon

Fandom: Sentinel

Pairing: Jim/m Jim/Blair

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimers: still not mine

Notes: thanks to YSM for the betaing. Written for Stormwolf Dawn’s fic contest. This one actually won the contest. / indicates thought

Summary: Is childbearing a gift or a curse? Jim is not sure.

Warnings: AU, rape, mpreg

Jim woke up feeling groggy, disoriented, lousy, all of them separately and together. He tried to move his hands, but found out he was unable to do so. His eyes flew open. He was lying on a thick coarse rug with his hands and feet tied to tent pegs in the floor. There was a fire burning in a trashcan to his right, he could not see any other source of light in the abandoned warehouse. The open space echoed with emptiness and abandoned hope. A woman was stirring something in a cauldron by the fire; he could see dried herbs and small pouches spread out on a cloth before her.

/Why’s she doing this?/

***

He had been sitting in a bar, nursing a beer and going through his options in his head. Sometimes using nuts as concrete examples, picking up and discarding them. He had just resigned from the army after a mission gone wrong. A helicopter had crashed down, killing everyone but him. If they’d had a magic user with them, it could have gone differently, but the brass had said no. Magic users could sense one another. There were shields, yes, but they only lasted for so long.

Jim snorted. They had worked around that before. He’d suspected someone had not wanted them to succeed. He had hinted at it and had been given nothing but trouble ever since. So he took the easy way out and left.

Someone sat down on a stool beside him. He glanced at the newcomer.

"Veronica? Veronica Sarris?" he asked surprised, turning to look at her more closely. He had only seen her once or twice before.

"That’s me," she smiled sadly. She was a daughter of one of the men that had died in the crash. "I was going through my father’s papers and I found something. I’m not sure what. I thought you might know, or be interested."

***

He had gone with her, had trusted her and was now tied up in some skeleton of a warehouse.

"Veronica? What’s going on?" He had a very bad feeling about this.

"Balance must be maintained. Why should you be the one to survive? How *did* you survive?" Without waiting for his answer, she rose, holding the cauldron and a large brush in her hands. "I was thinking of killing you, complete the circle, you know, but then I realised it wouldn’t balance out what has happened. This will." She kneeled down beside his torso. "I’ll give you the gift of life." She dipped the brush in the cauldron and started painting on his stomach, reciting a spell at the same time.

The ‘paint’ felt burning hot. The symbols seemed to burrow and crawl into him. He welcomed the unconsciousness as it freed him from the pain.

***

He woke up near dawn, still naked but no longer tied up. Something had happened to him, he was no longer the same. He could sense it. Whatever it was, it had his senses going in circles. They were concentrating on his own body, trying to reconcile what he was now with what he had been before. It made his head ache even more.

He felt exhausted, as if he had just run a marathon, and his legs shook as he rose. He saw his clothes nearby, very near. He blinked. His sight returned to a normal setting as fast as it had zoomed. He had just taken his trousers from the heap and was putting them on when he heard someone push open the heavy door behind him.

/How?!? My senses must really be in shock for me not to have heard anything before now. Shit./

"Look. The witch’s pet has woken up." There were three local thugs, full humans in not so good clothing. Part homeless and full-time hit men, Jim suspected. "Your mistress ain’t around anymore," the leader grinned.

***

Jim struggled to rise up from the dirty rug. He ached everywhere, his upper lip was broken, he would have bruises everywhere and his anus was leaking semen and blood. At least his senses had calmed with time and he had been able to turn them down halfway through.

/Up, have to get out of here./ The thugs could come back later, for a second round.

He got his clothes on and went out through a side door. He managed to walk to his motel room. A glare made sure no one stopped him to ask questions.

He cleaned himself thoroughly and crashed into the bed just before the shakes and the flood of tears started.

***

/Gods, no. Please, not this./

He was sitting on the couch in a loft he had purchased a week after coming to Cascade. It had been paid for with a part of his inheritance from his mother. He had wanted to start anew, forget everything that had happened or at least put it aside. Veronica’s curse made it impossible. /A gift of life,/ he snorted to himself. Some might consider it a gift, but Jim thought of it as a curse. A curse that changed him and his life, leaving nothing untouched.

She had made him capable of bearing children, but it also made him impotent; incapable of erection. He had always preferred women and had never been with a man before that day. And now he was pregnant.

He hugged himself and drew his legs up. He had sensed something odd for some time, but he had not realised just what it was until today. He had heard heartbeats coming from inside himself, two hearts beating side by side. Or three, if you counted his own, but Jim hardly noticed his own anymore. The two new ones were strangers, intruders.

He knew, in his head, that the babies had done nothing, were not to blame, that they were *his*, but he would always remember how they were sired. He did not want this. Did not want them. But as a sentinel, abortion was not an option. He protected, especially his own children.

He stroked his flat stomach.

He could sense the tiny beginnings of life. They were a pressure in his mind, crushing his heart with just their existence. Could he learn to ignore how they came to be? See them as separate from the memories?

A gift of life, she had said. /Some gift./ He could never be with a woman as he did not have the ability anymore, he would be going through something he had never even thought of doing and none of it was by his own choice. He could not even go after Sarris. She had disappeared, gone into hiding. With the condition he was in, he could not exactly run after her like a bloodhound and he had exhausted all the resources he had by phone or net.

/I wonder if the nearby prenatal clinic admits men?/

***

Blair was feeling excited. He had received his detective’s badge a month before, with full honours. He had started in the CPD in Vice, but had his eyes set on Major Crimes. He had set it as his goal as he started at the Police Academy. He always did better when he had his sight set on something definite. His mother, Naomi, did not approve of his choice of career. She had hoped he would become a spiritualist like herself and had gone to a retreat to process her feelings. She would accept his decision, he was certain of it. It might take some time, but she would come around. She wanted the best for him, it was just that they had different ideas about what it entailed.

He checked his watch. Another fifteen minutes and he would be late for his meeting with the real estate agent. He would be using some of his savings to buy a decent apartment. He had been living with his mother (who was off somewhere most of the time) and had done occasional jobs as a spiritualist, communing with the spirit world and seeking visions. He would not need too large a loan for a loft.

He arrived at 852 Prospect exactly on time. The real estate agent was already waiting for him, eager to make a deal.

***

Jim was having trouble sleeping, yet again. It was not as bad as before, but the nightmares still woke him up once a night. The dreams were not as bad as before and he was sometimes even able to sleep the whole night, but not tonight.

Jim walked down to the kitchen to make some tea; his stomach could not handle coffee anymore. He walked over to the balcony with a steaming mug in hand. It was a warm summer night, but he still snatched an afghan from the back of the couch.

The streets were peaceful and quiet at 2 am.

Jim stroked his stomach. He was beginning to show and was still unsure what to do. He was working in a security firm, but only for a few more months. After that, he had no idea. He had planned to give the babies away for an adoption, but had not talked with anyone about it. He had not talked with anyone, period. The healer at the clinic had asked few questions and he only went there to the prerequisite check ups. He had told no one of his pregnancy, except his employer. Mrs. Yoshikawa had not been pleased to hear of his pregnancy and had told him that his job agreement would not be renewed after the first six months. Jim could not blame her; he should have been honest with her from the beginning.

He checked the block with his senses.

With the income from the inheritance he could afford to keep the babies. But to be a single father would not be easy and he had not even found his guide. He had his senses, but they were not fully at his use or totally under his control. He could become a full sentinel only with a guide and he doubted a guide would be interested in a pregnant male sentinel.

He heard a familiar car coming down the street. It was the young detective from downstairs. They had barely exchanged hellos. Most of what he knew of the young man had come from Mrs. Mitford or he had accidentally overheard.

The spiritualist should be able to sense his pregnancy by now. He wondered what Sandburg would think.

Jim shook his head. /What does it matter what some downstairs neighbour thinks?/

***

Blair parked the car carefully before he allowed himself to yawn and stretch at last. He had been busy trying to find yet another source of evidence against a major prostitution ring. As the junior detective he had the privilege of going through the dusty archives and accumulated computer files. But he had refused to just wade his way through it; he had dived in and done a perfect job, not just good. If the case was a success, he could apply for Major Crimes. It was a prestigious unit; they got the best and the biggest cases, as well as the most difficult. That’s where he wanted to be.

He stepped out of the car. The cool night air cleared his muggy head somewhat. The spirits cooed their welcome.

He noticed the upstairs neighbour on the balcony with a mug. Blair smiled at the memory of how the real estate agent had made it a point to mention that there was an unbonded sentinel living just upstairs. Blair’s spirits had been excited about the sentinel since day one for some reason. He waved, but the security guard did not wave back though the sentinel must have seen him. Probably did not want to drop the afghan.

Blair shook his head. /Why am I making excuses for him?/

He locked the car and started to walk towards the main door. Something about the sentinel nagged at him. Blair turned around suddenly. Ellison was going back inside. There was a certain hue in his aura, signaling pregnancy. Blair walked to his apartment in shock. Pregnant.

It was a huge decision for a man to make. There was no going back. Within a few hours after the spell was cast, the changes were permanent.

Blair thought of what Mrs. Mitford had told him of the other occupants. Jim would not have known for certain he was pregnant when he moved in, but you did not go to a witch for a change unless you planned to become pregnant. His husband would have died just after the change was complete and Ellison was impregnated. Blair doubted anyone would run off at that stage, though you never knew. Whatever had happened, Ellison was now alone with a child coming. He had plenty of reasons to be grouchy. Even without taking the morning sickness into account.

Blair made a mental note to get something for morning sickness and take it to Ellison. After all, it was the neighbourly thing to do.

***

She was sitting on a lumpy chair in a mediocre motel room, counting her latest payment for a job well done. It was amazing how smoothly everything went once you let go of all those stupid rules and senseless guidelines the Witches’ Council insisted on. There was so much more you could do.

With her counting complete, she put the money into her purse. It was time to move on, she had stayed long enough in one place, but where to go?

She leaned back and closed her eyes. She had gathered enough money to be able to take a break. She could go to Mexico for a couple of weeks of luxury and pampering, and then to Cascade. Yes, time to see how Captain Ellison was doing.

She smiled. He had no idea this was just the beginning. There had been seven lives lost to his incompetence. Seven lives to bring back into this world.

***

Jim was lying on a couch, waiting for his stomach to settle down. It was his day off and he had planned to go shopping for clothes. Baggy clothes that would hide his growing belly. His uniform would be all right for a few more weeks, but after that he would have to change into maternity clothes.

He bit his lower lip. A visit to the maternity clothing store was inevitable, looming on the horizon like a thundercloud. He was dreading it already.

Jim froze. What about… baby clothes? No matter how it felt now, there was time and reality after the birth. The babies would need clothes, toys, baby stroller, baby gear… The mere thought of going for a shopping trip chilled him. It would be the final seal, the point of no return. Not that there was any chance of taking a different turn now, or had been since that evening.

A knock on the door startled him. He stared at the door. Few came to his place, none practically speaking.

He shook his head and rose off the couch. Judging by the sound and scent it was the young detective from downstairs. /Best to see what he wants./

He opened the door to see his irritatingly cheerful downstairs neighbour standing in the corridor with a colourful paper bag in one hand.

"Hi, hope I’m not intruding?" he inquired friendly. The detective was dressed for work and smelled faintly of incense and spicy aftershave.

/Yes, you are./ Jim curbed his first reaction. He did not need to alienate any more people. "Well, not exactly."

"Good. I’m on my way to work, but thought I’d bring this over before heading off to combat crime."

Jim eyed the gift bag the young man was holding out for him.

"What is it?" he asked warily, watching the green bag with blue and silver ornamentation as if it was a potentially poisonous snake.

"A collection of herbal teas. They’re from the store by the local park. There are two calming teas and two that are good for morning sickness."

Jim felt a momentary surge of panic. /Get used to it. He’s just the first one who’s noticed. Just wait until Mrs. Mitford finds out. It will be common knowledge in two minutes./

"Oh. Well, thanks." Jim took the offered paper bag.

"They’re all natural so there should be no problems. See you later," Blair said as he jogged off. Jim stared after him. /Weird./

***

Blair was whistling as he returned home late that evening. The case was going smoothly for once and Captain Schwinn had congratulated him on a job well done. The old grouch did not do it lightly.

Blair parked at his usual spot at the south end of the parking lot. He looked up to see Jim standing on his balcony with a mug in his hand. Blair waved. He received a tentative wave from Jim.

Blair did not have enough strength to sprint up the stairs but he felt like it.

***

Jim fixed a tea from one of the herbal concoctions Blair had given him. They actually seemed to help with the queasy stomach. Now if he could find something to fix the rest.

He walked over to the couch and flopped down on it. He had had to put in a request for a maternity uniform. It would take a few days to arrive. He was already receiving knowing glances from the other guards. Thankfully no one had started asking questions. He still did not know how he would answer.

Jim looked down at himself. He would have to go to a maternity clothes store, no way around it.

***

Blair surveyed his apartment. It resembled an abandoned cellar more than anything. There were boxes (unpacked and still full), papers, cups, clothes and various other items scattered all over. He had practically just visited here lately, grabbed a few hours of sleep and a quick snack. He would have to clean up, there was no other choice. Unless of course he wanted to have the biohazard team to come knocking at his door. Collecting and taking out the trash would be a good start.

On his way from the dumpster he ran into Jim by the main doors.

"Hi, beautiful morning, isn’t it?" And it was. The sun was shining from a cloudless sky, warming up the spring air.

Jim looked around as if he had just noticed the weather. "Why, yes. Yes, it is."

"Something wrong?" Sentinels were usually more observant and aware of their surroundings.

"Nothing. Have to go," Jim said curtly.

Blair put a hand on Jim’s arm. He was really getting worried. "Jim?"

The other man blushed a cute pink. "It’s just… Nothing fits."

Blair looked at Jim’s too large sweater, and sweatpants. Realization dawned.

"It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, how about I come along to help you carry your shopping bags."

"But… they’ll think…" Jim was cute when he was flustered.

"I don’t mind. In fact, I’d be flattered," Blair said seriously. For some reason the thought that Jim might mind hurt him.

Jim looked at him, as if to see if he was serious.

"Okay."

"Good," Blair knew he was grinning like an idiot but he did not care.

He steered Jim inside to wait in the lobby while he ran up to grab his coat and wallet. This would be a lot more fun than cleaning.

***

Jim looked around the maternity store, amazed at the variety of pregnancy and baby related products available. Blair was enthusiastically researching the contents of the three-storey store. Jim had come to the conclusion that the young detective must have been a holy terror as a child. /Wonder what mine will be like?/

"The maternity clothes for men are on the second floor," Blair announced. "Come along."

Jim took a deep breath and followed him, to boldly go and all that.

It was not that bad. The maternity clothes looked and felt okay, except for that one detail. The price tags were not that scary either. The sales clerks were polite (‘oh, they’re a cute couple’ was the most embarrassing comment he heard) and Blair was actually good company. He had a good eye for colours and acted as a shield between Jim and curious well-wishers (that one grandmother was particularly awful).

"She meant well," Blair said as they were sitting at a café with Jim’s shopping. The bags filled two chairs to overflowing. After all, he was going to be pregnant for months.

"I know but all her comments about her pregnancy, her son’s spouse’s third child, our sex life…" Jim tried to calm himself. "She had no right to barge in and start yapping."

"I agree, but she meant no harm and she left after a few minutes," Blair said calmly, sipping at his cappuccino.

"Seven minutes and 45 seconds," Jim commented, unwilling to forgive and forget.

Blair chuckled. Jim could not help grinning. It *was* pretty funny when you thought about it.

***

/So, you have a suitor. Wonder what kind of a man is interested in a single pregnant male?/

Veronica watched from an alley as the sentinel gathered the shopping bags from the back seat of the car. A young man hurried to help him.

/Good, you’re definitely pregnant. Now, what to do?/ She could let him live in peace for a few months or grab him now and take him to the one she had chosen to sire his next litter. She was not sure how long her next project would last, but she did not want anything to go wrong with this one either. She was doing this to restore the balance and help her father’s soul achieve peace. The suitor was an unknown factor and could put her plans at risk in the long run. She could not allow that.

***

Blair was startled awake from deep sleep. He glanced at the bedside clock, 1.45 am.

Something had alarmed one of his guardian spirits. <What is it?>

<Dark lady, witch/not-witch asking around searching>

<Where? Searching as in looking for something lost?>

<Here, looking around, seeing what is>

Blair asked a few more questions but the spirit knew nothing more. He got up to make some coffee; he would not get any sleep for some time anyway.

It sounded like a failed or a rogue witch was sniffing around, but why? What was here that she could possibly be interested in? Blair walked over to the balcony doors. He looked out at the nighttime street deep in thought. He would report the incident to the Witches’ Council. It might be insignificant, most probably was, but there was a possibility it was not. With Jim around, he would take no unnecessary risks.

***

"Sandburg", Blair answered the phone, still concentrating on an old hand-written report. He was convinced an illiterate baboon had written it.

"This is Priestess Megan Connors from the Witches’ Council." The old report was forgotten in a blink. "You reported a rogue witch this morning."

"Yes. Do you know who it is?" /Fast work, they must have been after her already./

"We don’t have *that* many rogues," she commented dryly. "Besides, Veronica Sarris is known to have a grudge against James Ellison."

Blair clicked in a search into his computer.

?Veronica Sarris

?Witch 3^rd class

?Gone rogue

?For additional information type in level 3a code

"We’d like to arrange a trap for her for this evening and would appreciate your and your department’s co-operation. After all, you do live there," she added amused.

"Sure, just let me clear it with Captain Schwinn."

She gave her name and phone number. They agreed that she would come to his place with her team that evening. There was little doubt his captain would not agree to the deal.

Blair put the receiver down and went to the captain’s office. /Too bad I don’t have a camera, his face is going to be worth seeing./ As Connors had said, they did not get that many rogues, and the few they got were mainly treated by other departments, unless someone was already involved in the case.

***

Jim was sitting on a couch, sipping tea and reading a booklet on pregnancy. The writer was doing her best to sound positive and enthusiastic, but so far Jim had found little to like about the process. Besides, the mere thought that there was something alive inside him, growing, felt weird.

The phone rang. For once, it was a welcome intrusion. He reached for the phone, tossing the booklet onto the coffee table.

"Ellison."

"Jim, it’s Blair. I… something’s come up," Blair said hesitantly.

"??" Jim tried to remember if they had agreed to meet somewhere or something, but came up with nothing.

"A team from the Witches’ Council is coming over to my place tonight." Blair did not sound happy about it.

/Why would-/ "Sarris, she’s here." Jim could feel a seed of panic inside him.

"One of my guardian spirits sensed her snooping around last night. I alerted the Council just in case. The leader of a hunting team, Priestess Connors, phoned me this afternoon."

Jim tried to calm his breathing. It was not an easy task.

"Did you know?"

"No, I had no idea who it was or that she was after you before I got the call today," Blair stated.

Jim believed him. "Okay, what now?"

"The team’s coming here this evening. Connors thinks she’ll try something tonight. When she comes, they’ll catch her," Blair was doing his best to sound reassuring. Jim hoped he was right.

"And all I’m to do is act normal, and be a sitting duck," Jim said dryly. "I’m not helpless. I used to be in the army, you know."

Blair sighed. "Jim, be realistic. It’s you she’s after. Besides, you don’t have a guide, do you?"

"No," Jim had to admit. "But still –"

"No," the young detective said sternly. "Your senses aren’t at their best. Even if by some miracle Sarris didn’t go straight after you, you could be hit by a stray spell or a bullet. Let the hunting team and the police handle this."

Jim realized he hated it when Blair was right.

***

Blair let in the last of the team, the local representative, Detective Brian Rafe from Major Crimes. The stylish young man already knew Megan Connors. She introduced him to David Scott and Laurel Underhill, the two members of her team, a young warlock on his first mission and an older witch. After Blair had told everyone present what he knew, Connors briefed them on the background.

"Veronica Sarris was reckless from the beginning, but no one knows what in the end drove her to abandon the sisterhood and its rules. She’s been a rogue for a year now. Far as we know, she’s been selling curses, wards, potions, poisons, bonded spirits…" Blair felt the anger and horror from his spirits. To bond a spirit was to enslave it, for eternity. Unless another witch, as strong as the bonder, freed it.

"While in the army, Ellison was involved in a helicopter crash that killed her father. For some reason, she blames him. There were some suspicions of a screw-up higher in the ranks, but nothing more. About four months ago, Ellison reported an attack by her. We tried to track her, but she’d vanished. This is the first solid clue of her whereabouts since then. This time, let’s catch her." Everyone present agreed to that one. Sarris was wreaking havoc and tracking down her merchandise would be next to impossible. They would have to wait for the items to surface, hopefully before someone was killed or injured.

/About four months, could the attack have something to do with the pregnancy?/ Blair made a note to ask Jim afterwards, though he doubted he would like the answer.

***

Jim had trouble concentrating on the basketball match on TV. Blair had called earlier to tell him that everything was set up. It irked him to just sit and wait, but he had to admit (if only to himself) that there was not much more he could do. He was no magic-user and without a guide his senses were not the most reliable, especially during a pregnancy.

His stomach turned again, and again. /Seems like the babies are upset too./ He rose off the couch. Maybe one of those herbal teas would help.

He was quite certain that these would be the longest months in his life.

***

Blair rose from the floor and walked over to the windows. He was too nervous to meditate.

"What is it? You sense something?" Rafe asked. Blair had heard him rise.

"No, just worried. What if something goes wrong?" Blair asked still looking out the window.

"We’ll do our best to make sure nothing goes wrong. That’s all anyone can do." Blair nodded. He knew the team was good, but… There was always a risk.

"She’s here," Connors announced. Everyone’s attention riveted to her. "Approaching from the south." She opened her eyes and rose. "Scott, you go with Sandburg to guard Ellison. Rafe and Underhill, you’re with me."

The magic users put on shields to prevent Sarris from noticing them. In Blair’s apartment, they had been able to hide their presence among the spirits gathered there.

Blair and Scott went up to Jim’s apartment as the others jogged downstairs, and out to confront Sarris. Blair phoned Jim on his cell and told him to open the door for them.

"I’ll be by the balcony, you stay by the stairs," Scott said to Blair as they entered Jim’s apartment. Blair nodded and parked himself on the stairs leading up to the bedroom. During a mission Scott, as a member of a hunting team, outranked Blair who was but a junior detective.

Jim sat by down the dinner table with a mug of a ginger ale and a pack of cards. He was looking nervous and frustrated. Blair smiled at him encouragingly when Jim glanced at him.

***

Veronica had checked Ellison’s place and found no magic users, just a spiritualist. Earlier in the evening, she had phoned the man she had chosen for him and everything was ready. It might be good to keep him there; it would be less trouble that way. Though that alternative had its risks too, what if he was not willing to loan Ellison? Trouble for another time, for now she had better concentrate on getting Ellison.

She walked along the quiet streets towards his apartment. The spell ingredients needed were in her bag, ready for use.

Suddenly she sensed three magic users nearby. /Fuck! Two witches and a warlock, closing in./

She continued walking calmly along a nearly deserted street. A few cars drove by but otherwise no one seemed to be up and about. She took a handful of spell ingredients from her bag.

She tripped on something and fell on the cool asphalt. /What the -/

"Freeze! Cascade police!" The shout seemed to originate from a dirty figure swathed in rags.

/The hobos; this is almost embarrassing./ She turned and freed a spell of light, blinding the one aiming a gun at her as well as everyone around him.

A pile of cardboard boxes from an alley nearby flew at her. They were not easily dodged, nor the flowerpots.

One of the not-hobos slammed into her. Another grabbed her hands. She widened her shield, pushing them off. She would have slammed them against something unyielding, but the magic users were there.

***

"How’s it going?" Blair asked Scott.

"They’ve got her cornered, but she won’t give up." Scott’s eyes were half closed and his voice sounded distant as he concentrated on the magic, on the flow of energy and on the ripples caused by spells.

"Did you expect her to?" Jim snorted.

The Council before any trial always neutered a rogue magic user. His/her connection to the beyond was cut off, for good. It was described as becoming deaf and blind. Sarris would not surrender gracefully.

***

/When did I become someone to be protected?/ Probably about the time he became pregnant, Jim answered himself.

He stroked his stomach. There was a compulsion in him to protect the babies and he had to admit that before whenever he encountered someone who was pregnant there was an instinct to protect them. But this was him, he could take care of himself.

Jim sighed. /Admit it, the one matter that’s going to define your existence for the next six months or so is the pregnancy./ It certainly dominated his own thoughts.

***

She had internal injuries, a gunshot wound in her leg, her muscles were aching, but she would not give up. There was always a way out, and once she had healed she would get back at Ellison and his boyfriend.

She reached deep into her bag. /Time to get out of here./

She watched as the spirit she had reserved for herself gathered energy and became more *there*.

***

The fight had been long and tiring. It was time for desperate measures, for last punches.

Megan saw Sarris reach deep into her bag. She felt the curtain between realms breached and energy transferred. /I thought you’d do something like this./ She took Rafe’s hand. As per previous agreement, they switched their sight and targeted the cord binding the spirit to Sarris. Combining their powers, they cut it.

"What?" Rafe gasped.

The spirit did not leave as they had expected, as the freed spirits usually did. Instead, it attacked Sarris. It was already inside her shielding and she did not have a bonding spell ready.

"She must have had it for years," Megan muttered shakily as they hurried to Sarris.

Sarris was lying on the ground, not moving, unresponsive. Megan laid a hand on her temple. She could not detect her soul.

"Get the healers, alert them to her condition," she told Rafe. He took out his cell phone and called the healers.

No matter what she had done, they would try to help her. Whether they could or not, was another matter. It depended on where her soul was and in what condition. No matter what, it would take her a long time to heal. Megan could not rally much sympathy for her.

***

"She’s gone," Scott announced, shutting off his cell phone. He had sensed something big and had contacted Underhill.

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?" Jim demanded to know.

"Her self is no longer in this world," Scott said uncertainly, as if he did not understand it himself.

"What about the others?" Blair asked.

"No one else was seriously injured," Scott said, distracted. He was still trying to figure out what had happened with Sarris.

Blair breathed a sigh of relief.

***

The team had gathered at Blair’s for a reviewing of notes before going off. The Cascade police had taken everyone’s statement and Mrs Mitford had questioned anyone she could get a hold of. Blair still chuckled as he remembered her face when she got a good look at Jim. Old sweatpants and a t-shirt did little to hide his pregnancy. The events of tonight would keep her busy for weeks to come.

Blair escorted Jim to his loft.

"Are you sure you want to stay here?" Blair asked softly once they were inside. "You could crash at my place."

"Thanks, but no thanks. As Scott said, she’s gone. And this is my home." Jim looked tired, worn out, but also… relieved.

Blair nodded.

"Jim, I might be seriously trespassing here, but… You reported that Sarris attacked you four months ago. What happened?" Blair asked quietly. If Jim did not want to tell, he would bury the matter and not bring it up again.

Jim walked over to the couch and sat down. Blair could not see his face.

"She… she had me raped," Jim said quietly, rubbing his stomach.

Blair wanted to shout, rage, cry, throw up, instead he sat down beside Jim, careful not to crowd the sentinel.

"The act is on her conscience as well as the rapist’s. And the child’s yours," he said calmly, hoping they were the right words.

A sob wrenched free from inside Jim. Blair put an arm around him. For a moment, Jim stiffened but then he relaxed into the embrace. The floodgates opened and Jim cried in the loving hold. Blair crooned softly and stroked Jim’s back, trying to comfort him the best he could.

<Hurt?>

<Not in body. Something bad happened to him once, by the dark lady>

<Not let anyone hurt him> There was a chorus of similar sentiments from the other spirits. They felt fiercely protective of Jim. /Probably because he’s pregnant, and a friend./

He looked down at the sentinel who had quieted and was snuggling against his stomach. Jim had not let go of him and Blair was certainly not going to remind him to. Any way he could help, he would.

Blair felt something tickling at the back of his mind. He closed his eyes and concentrated on it.

His eyes shot open. It was the bond, the sentinel-guide bond. Jim was his sentinel.

"Jim?" The question was hesitant, full of wonder.

"I wasn’t ready for a bond, not before. My life revolved around her, but now she’s gone. I’m ready to let go of the hate now. If… if you’re willing to have me as a sentinel, that is," Jim said to Blair’s stomach.

"Yes, I’m willing. You’re a strong and gentle soul once you let someone near you," Blair said, stating a fact of life.

Jim tried to stop a sob only to have it evolve into a hiccup. Both chuckled at the sound.

"I can guide you through the basics, but any advanced sense practices will have to wait until after the birth," Blair said, still rubbing Jim’s back. The sentinel’s senses would be concentrating more and more on the womb and its contents. The range of his senses would shrink considerably in the next few months.

Jim sat up, still holding onto Blair’s hand.

"What about your work?" The question was followed by another hiccup. Jim’s face was streaked with tears, his nose ran and his hair was spiking, but for some reason he did not care about how he looked. After all, Blair was his guide.

Blair looked at him confused, not understanding the question.

"I’m supposed to help you," Jim pointed out.

"No," Blair said sternly. "Your senses are not at their best, my work does not require a sentinel right now and we. Are. Not. Going to endanger the babies."

Jim did not look at all pleased with Blair’s announcement. /Tough, I’m not going to back down./ They stared at each other for a couple of minutes, still holding hands.

Jim sighed. "Okay, but after the birth…"

"We’ll see how it goes," Blair promised.

"I’ll hold you to that," Jim stated. "So, how did you become a detective?" Jim realised that he did not know that much about his guide.

"The usual: Academy first, then – Jim!" Blair wailed as the sentinel tickle attacked him.

"You know what I meant." Jim could not help grinning. Somehow the bond was like a healing balm on his soul. His guide had a light and joyful soul.

"Pushy sentinels," Blair mock growled as he made a show of reseating himself on the couch. "Now, I was helping my mother – she’s a professional spiritualist, by the way – at her office. One day a client wanted her to contact his dead son. Someone had murdered him." Blair could still remember the pain in the man, even hidden behind anger it could still be seen. "The police had arrested a man for the murder, the father’s brother."

"Gods," Jim gasped. "Did he refuse to believe it?"

"Yes. He wanted to know who the ‘real’ murderer was." Blair shook his head. "Mom contacted his son. All the soul would tell her was ‘you already know’."

"He wouldn’t listen," Jim said, feeling sad for the father. He was a man who refused to see and who would not listen, someone who would blind himself from an ugly truth.

"No. A few weeks later the police arrested him for attempted murder. He was put into psychiatric programme in the prison." Blair could still remember the impotent rage he had felt at the news. The man’s wife refused to see him. She was convinced he could have done something before, could have prevented the murder. She had taken their two younger children and moved away. Blair hoped she had been able to let go of anger and bitterness.

The guide and sentinel were silent for a while. The silence was warm and soft, a comfortable silence.

"One person can ruin so many lives," Blair said quietly.

"I know."

Jim stroked the hand he was still holding.

"Would you sleep here?" He wanted to keep his guide close by.

"Sure."

***

Jim was lying next to his guide on the large bed. /My guide./ The words tasted good, really good. He wriggled a bit closer to Blair and closed his eyes. He fell asleep in seconds. No nightmares ambushed him.

***

It took some juggling to find enough time for sense exercises. Jim worked shifts and Blair was as determined as ever to make it to Major Crimes in record time. Planning only a few days at a time, they managed it.

"Good, basic breathing. Let your senses float." Blair was sitting cross-legged on the floor of his living room concentrating on his sentinel. Jim was sitting on the floor cushion before him. He was looking serene with his eyes closed and his face relaxed. With the growing belly he was the picture of fertility. Blair chuckled.

Jim opened his eyes and looked at his guide with suspicion.

"What?" he demanded.

"Nothing." Blair did his best imitation of innocence. It was wasted on his sentinel. Jim knew better by now.

"Right." The word was dribbling sarcasm.

"*Ahem* You did well with the exercises and I’ve got a free weekend coming up. How about a Jags game? I’ve got two tickets." He had gotten them from Lieutenant Nye. She owed him a favour and her husband had suddenly broken his hip. She said the tickets had been mainly for him as she did not care much for sports and now that he could not go she did not want them to be wasted. She did not need to talk him into accepting them for long.

Jim still looked suspicious.

"Sounds good. Have anything in particular planned?"

"No, just a good game and some relaxation."

***

"Great, next time remind me not to listen to you," Jim grumbled.

"I’m a spiritualist, not a seer. How was I supposed to know?" Blair really did not know what he could have done differently.

Jim actually pouted. Blair grinned. Jim looked good when he pouted.

"What?!" the sentinel demanded testily.

"Nothing," Blair wisely decided to keep his observations to himself.

The evening had started well. The Jags played a good game and won by a margin of three points. They had had good seats and the audience was supportive of both teams. They were there to watch a good game and have fun.

They were walking home from the game strolling among other couples out to enjoy themselves. It was a quiet and beautiful evening, disrupted only by the occasional drunk.

"It was a great shot. Williams is an artist with a ball," Jim was still feeling high from the game. Blair had learned early on that the sentinel loved basketball.

He looked at the man walking beside him. He could feel a tendril of attraction. About half of the sentinel-guide bonds evolved into love, the lucky ones. A sentinel and guide were already bonded and when the bond changed into love, the two were true soulmates. No one knew why some bonds changed and others did not. /Looks like we’re lucky./ There were several theories about it. The most popular one said that some pairs just matched while others were perfect matches, destined to be together. Blair liked the sound of it. He made a mental note to light a candle to Destiny.

***

Jim was feeling great. He had enjoyed the game, and the companionship. He really liked his guide. Blair was an open person, ready to accept and slow to reject. He had not known too many such persons.

Blair suddenly went quiet. Blair was seldom *quiet*, if he did not talk, he thought. Jim could usually sense *something* from his guide. Jim turned his head to look at his guide. Blair was looking at him intently.

Jim blushed. He could not believe it; he actually blushed under the clearly interested gaze. He turned his head to look at a shop window and hide his blushing. Judging by a chuckle from Blair, he was not successful.

His head snapped up.

"Something’s going on at the store by the crossroads. A burglary by the sounds of it." All the low-level flirting was pushed aside in a heartbeat.

Blair took his cell phone and thrust it at Jim.

"Call it in, speed dial number two," he ordered.

Jim followed his guide as the said guide took his gun and walked briskly to the back door of Mr Damar’s bakery. Jim lowered the setting on his sense of smell. Mr Damar was a neat person, but a back alley is a back alley. Meaning it was smelly and infested with creepy and crawly creatures. Jim caught a glimpse of a few tails as they walked to the back door.

"This is Sentinel James Ellison. I’d like to report a burglary attempt at Damar’s, address 822 Prospect. There are two burglars… Good, but I doubt officer Sandburg will wait… So I’ve noticed… Great, bye."

"Jim, you wait here." A spirit of air opened the pick locked backdoor at Blair’s request.

"No. I’m your sentinel, remember?" Jim was not going to give up this time.

"Jim." A sigh. "I don’t have time to argue. You stay behind me and out of the way. Got it?"

"Yes." Good, maybe Blair would start to see him as someone useful, instead of just someone to be cosseted.

***

Blair entered the store quietly. He could hear the two burglars at the store, going through it for anything of value. They were being quiet and careful. /Not their first time burglarising./

Jim tapped him on the hip.

"Guns, both of them," he whispered.

Blair felt like cursing. The stakes had just gone up.

He relaxed and started to sneak toward a point where he could see both of them. Jim followed him close by, but stayed by the door to the back storage. /Good./ Blair went quietly to the shelves by the front window. He would have enough light to see, but the two would not be able to see him clearly.

He rose and shouted, "Cascade PD! Freeze!"

The two men froze for a second, but then ducked and took out their guns. /Fuck! Why couldn’t it have gone quietly for a change?/

Blair shot the other one on the shoulder. He went down, and stayed down. The other one managed to duck behind a counter.

Blair took cover and tried to figure out where the other guy was, and more importantly, where he was going. /I could really use sentinel hearing right now./ Jim! Blair’s heart was suddenly somewhere in his throat.

***

Jim could hear the other burglar nearing the back storage. /Trying to get away./

He tightened his hold on the large wooden rolling pin. He had grabbed it from a table as they had come into the store. He had had a feeling he might need something.

Just as the burglar entered the back storage, Jim hit him with the rolling pin. The guy was out cold before his head hit the floor.

***

"A rolling pin?" Blair grinned and shook his head.

"It was handy," Jim said defensively. They were sitting on the tail end of a healer’s wagon. They had wanted to check Jim over, just in case. Well, to be honest, Blair had insisted on it too. They had to stay around to give their testimonies anyway. Jim had given in, ungracefully.

Blair chuckled. Things were going to be interesting if nothing else.

***

/We certainly seem to spend a lot of time together./

They were sitting at Jim’s place for a change, watching a Jags game on TV. Jim had his feet up on cushions on the coffee table. Blair had suggested it and he had to admit it felt comfortable.

The guide groaned at a missed shot. Jim shook his head.

"The poor kittens are getting a beating," he commented sarcastically.

"Poor kittens?!" Blair snapped his head toward his sentinel. "Even kittens would play better."

Jim chuckled. Blair was almost as much of a basketball fan as he was.

"Kittens would not reach a basket, you know?" Jim pointed out.

"Those cretins aren’t having much luck either," Blair grumbled. The guide leaned back on the couch.

Jim looked at him with loving amusement. Blair was cute with his hair in disarray and all flustered. /I wonder if he’d look like that when – Not going there./ Jim hastily turned his attention back to the game.

"Jim?" Blair asked softly. They were sitting almost hip-to-hip. Jim could sense Blair’s body heat, warming him.

"Nothing," Jim said, too fast.

"What is it?" Blair shifted closer to him.

Jim turned his head toward his guide. /Should I?/

He swallowed. "Would you… kiss me?"

Blair was actually speechless for a while.

"I’d love to." The words were breathed into his ear and were followed by a lick on his chin.

The game was half-forgotten as they kissed and cuddled on the couch.

***

Jim sat on a bench in a park. It was a sunny and warm summer day. He had decided to go out for lunch. The local vendors had quite good tortillas and tacos. /Too bad I have to keep drinking milk or tea./

At six months, his stomach had grown so much it was getting in the way all the time, even sitting down required practice and good balance. Though what irked him most were the goofy smiles he was receiving, especially when he was out with Blair. What was it about them that everyone assumed they were a couple? Well, they were a couple, a sentinel-guide couple and on their way to being something more, but still… The general assumption seemed to be that if you were pregnant, you had to be married. Considering all the possibilities it seemed silly to make such assumptions. And it was irritating as hell to the person you were making assumptions of.

Jim heaved himself up and waddled over to the trash bin. Just one more month of work and he was still not sure what to do next. He had to admit that the next four months were kind of reserved, but after? Staying at home to look after the kids until they went into day-care did not sound so bad, but going about it alone was not an enticing prospect.

/Wonder if Blair would be interested in being a father?/ Blair was his guide and they seemed destined to be soulmates, but was Blair willing to become a husband and a father at the same time?

/Would I feel this way about Blair even without the change?/ Most probably, the bond was bringing them closer to each other. The bonding would have happened anyway once they met. The thought of sex with Blair made him nervous, though. His only experience of male-male sex was a gang rape. /Besides, I’m not exactly attractive at the moment,/ Jim thought sarcastically, looking down at himself. /Blair’s probably not even interested in doing anything with me right now./

He sighed and watched the impromptu basketball match a group of teenagers had going. /Just what do I feel toward Blair?/ They were a sentinel and guide. A potential husband? Jim would not mind having Blair around for years, even decades. The thought of sharing a bed with Blair did not bother him. In fact, he kind of liked it. He was sure Blair would not hurt him. He trusted his guide. He could not remember a lover he had trusted as much as Blair. In fact, he could not remember ever trusting anyone as much as he trusted Blair.

Jim checked his watch. It was time to get back to work. He could talk about the future with Blair after the birth. /Seems like everything will have to be postponed until after the birth./

***

Blair was approaching nirvana. Everything was proceeding perfectly. The prostitution ring case was coming to an end. The DA had gone through the evidence and pronounced it airtight. She had written arrest warrants for the main players on the spot and the arrests would happen this weekend.

/Next week, after the bail hearing, I’ll put in a transfer request to Major Crimes./ Blair was sure it would be accepted.

/Careerwise, I’m doing good./ He got up to get some coffee. On the personal life front, there was Jim. He was spending a large chunk of his free time with the sentinel. As a guide and sentinel, they matched, but there was more to it.

/Coffee’s finished, again./ Blair set about making another batch.

/How much more, now that’s the question./ He was attracted to Jim, that was pretty much certain judging by the wet dreams and fantasies his imagination had come up with. Attraction and even love? He had never felt anything like this toward anyone, and with the bond he knew that Jim felt similarly toward him. Commitment? The thought did not make him nervous, as it always had before. This was Jim; he could do forever with him.

/So, how about fatherhood?/ Blair had thought of having children only in a vague, maybe-in-a-few-years sense. This time it would happen in a few months. He was not sure he was ready for fatherhood.

"Daydreaming?"

Blair jumped up three feet. "Gods, you about gave me a heart attack!"

Captain Schwinn chuckled, totally unrepentant. The older man leaned against a table and watched as Blair tried to gather his wits, and rein in his hopping heart.

"What were you thinking of so deeply?" The young detective was rarely caught wool-gathering.

"Marriage," Blair blurted out. He realised his mistake as every head in hearing range turned his way. /Detectives! They’re worse than fishwives./

By the time Blair finally made his escape, he had gained a new understanding of how suspects felt during a questioning. He had fared poorly. /By tomorrow morning, the whole CPD is going to know about Jim and me./ After the bakery arrest there had been some rumours, but nothing solid. /The first baby cards and gifts will probably start arriving after the arrests./

Baby gifts. Blair could not remember seeing any baby clothing or anything at Jim’s place. /He’s been putting off the shopping trip./ It would be just like Jim to put aside the unwelcome issue. Blair made a mental note to take Jim for some shopping after the arrests. The guide was a firm believer in wrestling unwelcome issues into submission. He made a mental note to check out the best stores.

That settled, the young detective typed in a search about the whereabouts of one Michael Carter, human trafficker and slave trader.

***

Jim was watching the local news as he filled out forms for the prenatal clinic. The guide leaflet was lying on the coffee table. It was at least four times longer than the forms themselves. The breaking of a prostitution ring was number three in the news, right after the latest political scandal and the bankruptcy of a major local company. /I suppose good news aren’t as -/ Jim’s sight zeroed in on Blair standing in the background in an arrest of one of the key figures, acting as backup. He pulled his sight back as the reporter elbowed into the camera line. /So, that’s the case he’s been so enthusiastic about./ He felt oddly proud about it, as if Blair was his husband and not just a friend.

Then came the worry. Something could have gone wrong. Then he remembered Blair saying once that he was thinking of asking for a transfer to a more prestigious department if everything went well with the case. Blair was ambitious; what if he thought that having a family would hinder him?

Jim groaned and tossed the forms and the pen onto the coffee table. First he had bitten his nails because he did not know whether he wanted Blair or not and now he was panicking because he thought Blair might not want a family. /Wonder if it’s hormones or just me?/

***

Blair knocked on the door to the captain’s office.

"Come in!"

Blair took a deep breath and opened the door. Captain Schwinn raised his head from great-grandchildren of the forms and reports that had taken over his table years before.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I’d like to put in a request for a transfer." Now that the moment was here Blair did not feel elated, he felt sad. He was leaving, leaving his new friends, leaving his niche in the department. Leaving had not bothered him before.

"Has someone given you trouble or something?" the captain asked, motioning for a chair. He looked at his newest detective questioningly, looking like the ideal grandfather, understanding and wise. He was really good with victims and witnesses.

"No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’d like to try for a transfer to Major Crimes. I feel it’s time." And it was. If he wanted to stick by his original plan, now was the time to take the final step.

"Have you talked with Jim about it?"

It did not surprise Blair that Schwinn remembered Jim’s name. The captain knew everyone at the CPD and kept track of all the marriages, divorces, girl/boyfriends, births… Blair suspected he was secretly a soap opera addict.

"I’ve mentioned it to him. I’m thinking of having a longer talk with him next weekend. We’re going shopping for baby gear," Blair said smiling.

"He’s due in four months or so, right?"

"Yes."

The captain nodded. "You won’t have much time for career moves for a year or two, at least," he pointed out.

"I’m not in much of a hurry to make a captain," Blair grinned. He was not bothered by Schwinn’s assumption that he was the father.

"I’ll put in your request," Schwinn promised. "With my recommendation."

"Thank you."

Blair gave him the transfer papers. He was surprised to find his hand steady.

As he walked over to his desk, Blair thought about the talk with Jim. They would have to talk about what next. Blair wanted to be *with* him, but the thought of fatherhood, times two, was unnerving. He dialled Jim’s cell phone number.

***

Jim was standing by the fountain in an office building’s central lobby. Since he had started to show, Yoshikawa had given him the more peaceful jobs. He did not mind the quiet, but the fact that it was deliberate irritated him. He had even considered putting in a complaint of discrimination, but had decided against it, why bother with such.

Jim’s cell phone beeped. He checked the number: it was Blair.

"Hi, Blair… No, nothing much, just keeping an eye on some papers… Industrial espionage is seldom violent or visible, so stop worrying already." Jim grinned; it was kind of cute how Blair was always worried about him. "No, I don’t have anything planned for Saturday, why?… Oh. I don’t know… I know, but you don’t have to… Well, when you put it like that… Sure, sounds good… See you then."

Jim closed his phone. He had a date with Blair; they’d go looking baby clothes, baby strollers, toys and other assorted paraphernalia. Sounded serious when you thought about it. Looked like they were going to have that talk a bit sooner than he had planned. Jim was not sure whether it was good or bad, probably both.

***

Blair was hunched over his desk, trying to find some sense in a report of disturbance. Apparently a young man in his early 30s had flashed Mrs Buckwheat who had then whacked him with her shopping bag. The said bag had contained three beer cans and the young man had lost consciousness. Mr Weathery, who happened to be nearby, had called it an excessive use of force, at which Ms Reading had called him a chauvinistic redneck, quite loudly. After that it got confusing.

Since the flasher did not regain consciousness until after the police had arrived, he could not tell them what had happened. Blair was relieved when his cell phone beeped. Anything was better than trying to find the common factor in half a dozen witness reports.

"Sandburg…. Hi, Mom. You back from the retreat?… Uh-huh…. So, do you have time for your son sometime this week?… Great. I’ll come tomorrow… Right, bye."

He closed the phone. /Wonder how she’ll react to the news of the bonding./ He loved his mother, but he was not sure how she would react to the sudden announcement that she was to be a grandmother. Potential grandmother, Blair reminded himself. Though since the kids were his sentinel’s and Naomi was his mother, she *would* be their grandmother in a way.

Blair shrugged. At worst, she would go somewhere to process it and be fine in a few months.

***

Jim was lying on his bed with his feet over the railing. The babies were a constant pressure on his intestines and the extra weight in his stomach was bothering his spine. Then there was the fact that he still had trouble eating. He did not throw everything up anymore, but his stomach was throwing hissy fits, seemingly at random. Then there were the urges. Just the other day he had been taken over by a craving to have ice cream with onion sandwiches and mustard for lunch. /A miraculous time, my ass. What’s miraculous is anyone wanting to go through this a second time./

Jim looked at the sky visible through the roof window. Everything in his life had changed in just seven months; it had not even been a whole year. It felt like a decade. He had never been attracted to a man before and here he was, pregnant and definitely interested in another man, destined to be soulmates even. /Blair would make a good father./ He was certain of it, but was the guide willing?

He sighed. Nothing was ever 100 % certain in life, he if anyone should know it. They would talk before or after the shopping trip.

He froze.

Baby clothes. As in, clothes for babies, the ones in him at the moment. Those babies were going to come out and become their own persons; they were going to grow up. They would learn to walk, go to school, date, maybe even have their own children.

Jim felt a moment of panic. He had not really thought of the afterwards before now, but there was a time after the birth, years and decades of time. He, Blair and the children were going to be a family, if Blair wanted that.

What about any other children? Contraception?

Jim concentrated on calming his breathing.

He had changed; he was capable of having children. That would not go anywhere after the birth, it would still be there. He could have more children if he so wanted, or if he was not careful.

/I have to talk with the healer, and with Blair if we move in together./

/Oh gods, what about Father?/ He had not talked with his father for years. William Ellison still lived in Cascade and he had a right to know he was to be a grandfather. Jim doubted the talk would go well. His son being with another man would not bother him much, but his son being pregnant would, a lot.

Jim stroked his stomach. What if he was wrong about his father? It *had* been a few years since they talked last. And he did have the right to know. Jim grabbed his cell phone, better get it over with.

***

Blair sighed. Why was this so difficult?

He was sitting on a wicker chair, waiting in the lobby of Naomi’s office. He barely noticed the colourful curtains and throw pillows. A faint scent of incense had been around his mother and wherever she was for as long as he could remember.

The door to her office opened and his mother escorted a customer out, chatting encouragingly to the middle-aged woman.

"Hi, Honey. How have you been?" she asked him, walking back toward her office. She was trying hard to be cheerful and supportive.

He followed her to a large room with thick carpets, shelves full of books and charts and a lone table that was groaning under a pile of papers. Blair sat on a floor pillow.

"I’m good. We’ve just busted a prostitution ring. It took months of work, but they’re going to end up in jail for years." Blair felt proud of the case.

"I’m glad you’re doing well on your chosen path," Naomi said, sitting down near her son. "But I can sense that there’s another reason you’re here. You’re not here just to see your mother."

"True." Blair took a deep breath. "I met someone while you were away, someone important. My sentinel, and we’re destined to be soulmates."

Naomi stared at him. Blair had never seen his mother so totally speechless before, not even when uncle Bertie had started singing love songs to a priest in his cousin Mariette’s wedding. Uncle Bertie was a 72-year-old widower with a voice to scare the crows.

"But – How?" she asked befuddled.

"It just happened. We met and clicked. We’re meant to be together." Blair shrugged.

"What about Maya?"

"We were childhood sweethearts," Blair explained. He should have talked about this with his mother a long time ago, but it had slipped his mind. "We like each other and had fun, but it didn’t last. We’re better off as friends. If we had to look at each other over the breakfast table every morning, we’d end up killing each other."

"Maya still asks after you," Naomi pointed out. She was not giving up that easily.

"Of course she does, we’re friends. We’ve talked things over and have decided that this is the best for everyone."

Naomi took a deep breath. "Tell me about your sentinel."

"Well, he was in the army for years but resigned around the turn of the year." Having been in the army did not win him any bonus points with Naomi. "He’s pregnant and –"

"Already?!?" Seemed like everything he told her tonight shocked her, or at least surprised her.

"He was pregnant when we met, and living alone." He could feel her suspicions of him growing. "There was a rogue witch after him. The Witches’ Council sent a team after her, I helped them." It was more complicated than that but why go into details, especially since some of them were classified.

"So, that’s how you met?" She had regained some of her composure.

"Well, we’re neighbours, so in theory we met before that, but you could say the case brought us together."

"And you’re certain of the bond?" Naomi asked, still suspicious.

"Mother!" Blair was surprised at the rude question.

"Sorry." She sighed. "I’ll have to commune with the spirit world about this."

"Sure," Blair said, feeling better. It looked like Naomi was willing to give Jim a chance. "I’ll call you," he said rising from the floor.

"Take care of yourself."

***

Jim walked up the rock-covered path to the idyllic looking house. Father had agreed to see him for a few minutes. His brother Steven had made flimsy excuses about not having time to talk with him. The family relations had been shaky even before mother’s death. She had died in the same accident that had doomed his father to a life in the wheelchair. The atmosphere in the big house had skydived after the funeral. It had gotten so bad that Jim had joined the army to escape, and now he was back.

Jim squared his shoulders and knocked on the immaculate door. After a few minutes a stern looking older Asian woman opened the door.

"Hi, Sally. I’m here to see father."

"I can see why," she commented dryly.

Jim actually blushed. She still had the knack of making him blush and squirm in embarrassment. Things went downhill from there.

Sally steered him to the living room and stayed nearby, waiting, hovering in the background. The room was furnished with warm colours and soft fabrics, but it still managed to look cold and uninviting.

William looked at his protruding stomach.

"You’re pregnant, and you’re not married." There was no mistaking the disapproval.

"Yes and no."

"Knocked you up and left, eh?" his father sneered.

Jim opened his mouth.

"Not interested in your mistakes, nor in your bastards," William stated.

"What do you mean not interested?!? You’re going to be a grandfather." Jim could not understand his father’s attitude.

"Steven’s going steady with Stonebridge’s younger girl. They’re talking of getting married next Christmas. So, yes, I’m going to be a grandfather," William said calmly.

Jim shook his head. "Still denying reality."

"No son of mine is a bitch, and the offspring of some bitch and his flighty lover is no grandchild of mine," the old man stated angrily.

Without answering, Jim turned and got out of the house. A few more minutes and he would have gotten violent. One thing was sure; it would be years before they talked again. /His loss./ So, why did he feel so bad?

***

Blair woke up on Saturday morning feeling quite happy with the world, and nervous at the same time for some reason. The spirits asked him about it as he was going through his morning routine.

<Happy/not-happy?>

<I’m going to talk with Jim, about the future>

<What’s to talk?> Bafflement. <You’re to be soulmates>

<It’s not that easy>

<??>

<There are the children>

<Not like little ones?>

<Well, yes, I like them, but these would be mine>

<Not like?>

<Not sure>

<Trust you to choose well>

And the spirits did trust him. They wanted him and Jim to be together, but they trusted Blair to make the right decision.

<Thank you.>

<Little ones?>

<They should be born in a few months>

<Watch?>

Birth was a powerful event and as such attracted the beings from beyond. Just the thought of witnessing the birth excited the spirits.

<I’ll ask Jim>

Blair hoped Jim would say yes, it would mean a lot to his spirit friends.

***

Mrs Mitford ambushed Blair as he stepped into the corridor.

"You seem thoughtful this morning," she commented.

Blair thought about what to say. Mrs Mitford was a translator. Because of the irregular working hours and working at home, she had plenty of time to keep in touch with the happenings in the block. Jim suspected she wrote Harlequin novels on the side, but had yet to find proof.

"I’m going with Jim to buy some baby clothes," he answered simply.

"Isn’t it exciting? I was just talking with Beth as she took Ricky to school. It’s really good to have some more children around. It’s just so sad that he doesn’t have a spouse," she commented slyly. She could not have been more obvious if she had painted a sign.

"Yes, it is," Blair said and made his escape as Mr Stanley appeared.

/That’s it, she writes those fluffy novels. What more proof does one need?/

***

Jim was feeling nervous. He had thought about what to wear for ten minutes, before just grabbing what was handy. If things went badly, it would not matter what he wore. /Just how do you define badly?/ The problem was, he was not sure.

He was sitting on the couch, trying to come up with a definition for ‘badly’, as he sensed Blair coming to the door. He got up and opened the door before the guide had a chance to knock.

"Hi, you ready?" Blair asked with his usual morning cheerfulness. /No clues from there./

"Sure."

***

They decided to take Blair’s car. Jim had trouble driving with his grown belly, doubly so when he was nervous, and Blair was used to his own car.

"How about some breakfast first?" Blair asked casually.

/Probably a good idea./

"Sounds good."

They chose a quiet small café near the shopping centre. For once Blair did not say anything about Jim’s choice of breakfast. The guide seemed to be deep in thought.

"Jim, the bond… it’s something more than just a sentinel-guide link," Blair started as they were sitting on a booth by the window.

"I know. I can sense you anywhere. You have a beautiful soul," Jim said quietly.

Blair actually blushed. Jim chuckled.

"We’ve been circling around the attraction for some time," Blair said apologetically.

Jim toyed with the food on his plate.

"It’s just that…" He was not sure what to say.

Blair took his hand in his.

"I’d never hurt you."

Jim looked into his guide’s eyes. There was love, and acceptance.

"I know," he said softly.

"As for me…" Blair took a breath.

"The children," Jim said for him.

"The responsibility," Blair corrected. "I’m not sure I’m ready for fatherhood. Those kids would be dependent on us for years."

"I doubt anyone’s ever ready for it," Jim pointed out.

"Yeah, I know." Blair looked out the window. "That’s what I figured." He turned his head to look at Jim, he was still holding Jim’s hand. "I love you. How about we… take it slow?"

"As in?"

"Dating, spending time with each other, not moving in together until we’re both sure."

Jim thought about it. It sounded good. Taking it slow was what they both needed. So far they had not been going anywhere, at any speed.

He nodded.

***

Blair was doing his best to stay awake. Falling asleep on a stakeout was *really* not an option. Davis was not much help as the slightly overweight Asian detective preferred listening to a nighttime radio and was not much of a conversationalist.

Blair took a sip of his coffee. /Note to self: in the future, bring some espresso for stakeouts./

His cell phone beeped. /Mother?/

"Hi, mom, what’s up?… Good to hear… I suppose it’s okay. I’ll have to check with Jim… I’m sure it will be all right… I’ll let you know the exact date and time tomorrow… Sure… I’ll call you later. Bye."

***

"Dinner with your mother? This weekend?"

They were sitting in Jim’s kitchen. Blair was drinking coffee as if it was the only thing still keeping him up. Jim was wearing sweatpants with an XXL t-shirt and munching on a cracker. /Crackers and grape juice, just when did I become health conscious?/

"Mother’s somewhat… slow to let go of ideas. She’s had this idea of me and Maya ending up together for years," Blair explained.

"Who’s Maya?"

"My childhood sweetheart," Blair said, dismissing the matter. "Now, it looks like she’s ready to accept the fact that I’ve found someone else. She wants to meet you and suggested a dinner at my place."

"Why your place?" Jim did not like the sound of this.

"She’s having her own renovated. Again," Blair added under his breath.

Jim watched as Blair gulped down his coffee.

"And if she doesn’t like me?" Jim asked quietly. He needed to know where he stood before the great event of ‘meet my mother’.

"Then that’s her problem," Blair said seriously, sounding a lot more awake.

"Okay."

***

Jim set the table as Blair puttered around in the kitchen. They had settled on a vegetarian dish, as it was the safest bet where everyone was concerned. Jim straightened out and rubbed his back. He hated waddling like a duck but it was the only type of walking he seemed to be capable of nowadays.

"Your back bothering you?" Blair asked from the kitchen.

"No more than usual," Jim assured him.

Blair nodded. "I’ll give you a massage after the dinner, anyway."

Jim grinned. Blair’s massages were heavenly; they were guaranteed to reduce him to a purring lump.

There was a knock on the door as Blair was taking the cauliflower gratins from the oven.

"That must be mother." Blair went to open the door.

"Blair, Honey. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch with you lately," a willowy redhead said as soon as Blair held the door open for her.

"It’s alright, Mother. I’m just glad you’re here now."

Jim watched the mother and son greeting each other with obvious affection. Blair’s mother wore flowing sleeves and several gauzy skirts, each one a different colour. She was an image of a spiritualist. Jim wondered if it was deliberate.

"Jim, come meet my mother." Blair’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"Mrs Sandburg," Jim started as he walked towards the two.

Naomi cut him off. "Please, no Mrs. It’s just Naomi."

"As you wish, Naomi. And it’s Jim. It’s nice to meet you."

Naomi’s handshake was firm and warm.

"You, too. I heard you were in the army." The statement was said as a question.

"Yes, but I got into trouble for asking questions," Jim said. There was a still a bad taste in his mouth from the whole affair.

Blair steered them towards the dinner table.

"What about your family?" Naomi asked as they were sitting down by the table.

"We’re… not on speaking terms," Jim said, looking down at the table.

"Why not?" Blair asked from the kitchen where he was gathering the dinner fixings.

"I’m pregnant," Jim answered simply.

"They’d disown you for bearing life?!?" Naomi was shocked. Blair looked grim.

"Father doesn’t consider it proper. My mother died years ago."

"Not proper." Naomi practically hissed the words.

Blair brought the gratins to the table. He covered Jim’s hand with his own, offering support.

"You should pay no heed to such nonsense," Naomi said firmly. "Creating life is a privilege, a gift. It’s not something shameful or a burden meant only for women to bear."

"True," Blair agreed. "Now, let’s eat."

The dinner went smoother than Jim had expected. It seemed Blair’s mother had accepted her son’s choice of a mate. Jim was glad. He did not want Blair to lose his mother just because of him.

***

Blair was massaging Jim’s feet. The sentinel had his eyes closed and was practically purring. /I’m happy,/ Blair realised suddenly. Naomi had taken Jim under her wing, he and Jim were becoming closer, there was nothing looming in the horizon.

"Blair? Something wrong?" Jim did not bother to open his eyes.

"No, it’s just… I’m happy, here, with you."

"I know," Jim breathed. "Me, too."

***

Two weeks after the dinner, Captain Schwinn called Blair into his office.

"You asked for me, sir?"

"Yes." Captain smiled like a cat that got the fat bird. "Congratulations, detective."

"You mean?" Blair managed to croak.

"Yes, you’ll start in Major Crimes in a month," Captain Schwinn confirmed warmly.

"Yes!" Blair suddenly realised what the transfer meant. "Oops. Sorry, sir. I’m not that happy to *leave you*, it’s just that I –"

Captain started laughing. "Get out of my office, detective."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Blair said as he got out. Everything he had hoped for was coming true.

The others gathered around him in the bullpen.

"So, we hear you’re leaving us?" Davis commented.

"Look, it’s been great guys and I’ll miss you, but I really wanted to be there." Blair did not want any hard feelings.

"It’s okay," Rubens assured him. The older detective had been acting as his mentor during his first weeks in the department. "We’re happy for you."

"We’ve even planned a going-away party," Davis told him.

"Party?" Blair asked confused.

"Yes, an evening at Leo’s on our expense. Some of the Major Crimes detectives are going to be there too," Rubens told him.

"And only Jim going into labour is going to get you out of it," Rosanov said seriously. No big feat, it was said that the middle-aged female detective was born serious. "And even then we’ll require written evidence."

***

At Leon’s, all the fathers and mothers in the department cornered him and told him stories about small children; infections, pukings, colic, teething, crawling into odd places… But beneath it all, there was the sense of wonder and contentment. Blair realised that he wanted it, he wanted it all.

Rafe gave him a lift to his place as he was in no condition to drive. Luckily, Blair had had enough sense not to get into a drinking contest with Detective Taggart. He might look like a big teddy bear, but the large detective could drink anyone under a table.

Blair walked (under his own power, though in a strange curvy line) inside 852 Prospect, but instead of going toward his own bed, he went up to Jim’s place.

"What the hell are you doing here at two in the morning?" Jim had bed hair, was grumpy and looked sleepy, and very much pregnant. Blair felt a surge of love for him.

"I want us to get married."

Jim sniffed.

"How many have you had?" he asked dryly.

"A few," Blair admitted swaying a bit.

"Oh for… Come inside." The sentinel grabbed his guide and steered him towards the couch.

"But Jim, this is serious," Blair felt like crying. Didn’t Jim love him anymore?

"I know, which is why we’re waiting until the morning. After you’ve drunk a pot of coffee."

"You think I’m pro.. pros.. proposhing just because I’m drunk?"

"It’s certainly affecting your feet and mouth," Jim said dryly. He snatched an afghan from the back of the couch. "Now sleep it off like a good guide and I’ll answer you in the morning."

"You will?"

"I promise."

***

Jim walked straight to the coffeemaker after completing his morning routine. The guide was waking up and would feel like hell. He grinned. He had always suspected Blair was a mushy drunk.

Groans could be heard from the depths of the couch. Jim walked over to the coffee table and put a large mug near the lump. A hand shot out to grab the mug.

"If you say one word about guides who should know better," a gravely voice warned him.

"My lips are sealed. Feel like breakfast?" Jim asked brightly.

"Gods, no."

Jim grinned and went back to the kitchen to get his own breakfast.

***

Blair felt awful. At least he had not gotten shit-face drunk, just tipsy.

Coffee felt like ambrosia, soothing his throat on the way down. Now if he could do something about the sandpaperish mouth and general nausea.

He managed to sit up. Jim was sitting at the dinner table with the remains of a breakfast, looking at him with amusement.

"I was serious, you know," Blair said, looking at Jim steadily.

"What happened to taking it slow?" Jim asked carefully.

"I was an idiot. I thought I could be satisfied with just a portion of you, but that’s not how it goes. I’m still unsure about fatherhood, but I want it all."

Jim walked over to him, looking at him as if he wanted to see through him. He let Jim sense and see that he was serious.

Jim sat down beside him.

"You smell," Jim commented affectionately.

"I know. It was a pretty rowdy evening at Leon’s."

They grinned at each other. Jim leaned toward him.

"You’re sure?" Jim asked.

"Yes."

They kissed. It was awkward, Jim was very much pregnant (eight months by now), but they improvised. It was what they were good at.

***

"Come on, Jim. Just once more." It pained Blair to see his lover hurting so.

"You do it!" Jim barked. He was panting with the effort of giving birth to their children and Blair’s yapping was not helping any.

"Easy, Jim. You’re doing good," the healer said. She was crouching down by him, ready to receive the first child.

Blair was sitting on a stool behind Jim, keeping him up and calming the sentinel.

"Once more," Blair crooned. The birth had been going on for 5 hours and the grand finale was in sight. Blair could feel the spirits’ exhilaration.

"Oh, fuck," Jim groaned.

Finally, the first baby came into this world, announcing its arrival with a loud cry.

"It wants back into the warm womb," the healer said warmly as she cut the umbilical cord.

"No fucking way," Jim stated.

The second one was not any easier, though this time he knew a bit more about what to do and expect.

***

Blair looked at the two bundles of life with wonder. The spirits were practically crooning with happiness and excitement. It was truly a miracle. He was a father of two sons. Blair turned his head to look at their bed. Jim had woken up and was looking at him with an indulgent smile.

"They’re perfect," he blurted out.

Jim laughed.

"Just wait until they need their diapers changed, or puke on you."

"I know. I’m looking forward to it."

Jim shook his head.

"You’re weird."

***

Kincaid watched out of the window of his office. The plans had been set in motion and the Sunrise Warriors would strike in a week. He looked at the surveillance photo he was holding. It was of a young detective and his mate. A mate Veronica Sarris had promised him. Before he had been too busy to look into the matter, but his troops were ready now and he could indulge himself. Besides, they were to strike against the CPD anyway, might as kill two birds with one stone. /Truly a stroke of destiny./

END