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B.J Sandburg And The Stars Too.
Jim stared at his reflection in the mirror, eyes glazing over as he contemplated his past present and future.
It was quite a parade.
He'd lived a life most people would call adventurous. Traveling the world, refining the skills that came so naturally to him. Defending and protecting. Keeping the world safe, or at least his little American corner of it.
He'd made friends and lost them, ditto for lovers. He'd worked under people he respected and men he despised. He'd followed orders even when he'd disagreed with them and broken rules and regulations when his conscience demanded.
He'd survived his prosaic world shattering when his Sentinel abilities came back on line, and again later as belief after belief was challenged by the weird vagaries fate threw at him.
And through it all he'd viewed himself as a loner, first and foremost. It had actually become a source of pride to him, in the end. Other men waited breathlessly for mail call or stood in line for an hour to use the base phone. Other men asked for holidays off and planned vacation time.
Not Jim Ellison.
Sure, there'd been lonely times, especially when he was a younger man, before being alone had become a habit. But if anything those lonely times had made him a better, stronger man.
Only once had he allowed himself to reach out and that had turned into the most monumental mistake of his lousy romantic career.
Carolyn had seemed to fit him like a glove. While he was a loner by necessity she saw herself as one by choice, fleeing the pressures of her large possessive family. Like him she enjoyed physical pursuits and a quiet social life. Like him she didn't want children but seemed to feel the need to have some one person to be close to.
He supposed she had been too much like him.
Jim had been puzzled when his relationship with Carolyn went so far off course so quickly. They had seemed so right for each other. If two people with so much in common couldn't make it work, then who could?
In other words if he couldn't make it with Carolyn he wasn't going to make it with anyone.
He'd never actually admitted that to himself, but looking back now Jim had no doubt this attitude had coloured every relationship he'd attempted for the next five years. Including one that he'd never dreamt would even become a relationship.
Jim had to smile into the mirror despite the turmoil of his thoughts. His memory might be as patchy as his bald spot, but Jim had no trouble recalling those first couple of years with Blair Sandburg. Those years when they'd just been friends.
And they had been friends, despite pressures that would have pulled other people apart. They'd stuck it out and become Sentinel and Guide and almost despite himself Jim had begun to allow himself to believe that maybe, just maybe he might have a future with Blair Sandburg.
Not a romantic future of course, that was yet to come, but something that had seemed even better to Jim at the time. A true friendship, a real solid bond that would outlast the years and career changes and strange relationship twists and turns. Jim had allowed himself to believe he had found a soul-mate, albeit an unlikely one.
Tilting his head to one side Jim quirked a smile. Well, a soul-mate was what he'd found all right. Soul-mate, friend, partner, lover.
Jim nodded to himself. "You had the sun and the moon," he whispered to his reflection. "And you got the stars too, you lucky bastard."
A knock sounded at the door. "Jim? You ready to leave?"
"Just a minute, Chief." Jim surveyed his reflection one more time, tracing sensitive fingers over the white bandage, tracing his eyes over the yellowing bruises and livid cuts. Was he ready? In his pocket was a picture Blair had given him the day before of their two children. In his heart was a precious imprint of wide eyes and soft fragrant skin.
But his memory was another matter. Great gaping holes still littered its pathways, waiting to trip him up unexpectedly. He'd admitted to Blair and the doctor that he still thought there were gaps, but he hadn't told anyone how extensive he felt they were. Surely, he had told himself, they were temporary?
After all he was remembering stuff he hadn't even known he'd forgotten every single hour. Just this morning when Jim was trying out his legs in the hospital hall he'd walked past a heavily pregnant woman. Complete memories had clicked into his mind like a photographic slide and he'd had to lean against the wall, panting as if he'd just run a race.
Blair had rushed to his side in concern and Jim had looked at him in wonder, amazed anew at the very thought. This sturdy compact body had carried his children. Tiny babies nestled under that big heart.
Jim snorted at his own syrupy musings. He cast another look at himself in the mirror and then turned and left his bathroom.
Blair was sitting perched on the edge of the armchair by the window, flicking through a magazine. He tossed it aside as Jim came back into the room, gazing up at him with a tinge of anxiety.
"You okay?"
"Fine." Jim picked his coat up off the bed and shrugged into it carefully. Blair leapt up and held the back of it, letting Jim ease his arm into the sleeve without having to stretch back too far. He patted it into place on Jim's shoulders and then grinned cheekily at him.
"Ready to blow this pop stand?"
Jim smiled back. "Never readier, Chief."
Blair gestured with his chin at the waiting wheel chair. Jim only snorted again and shook his head. "No way."
~~~~~
The elevator doors opened and Jim frowned, listening hard. "Who's in the loft? I thought only Megan was staying here?"
Blair shrugged. "Everyone's been dropping in to help. Maybe they hung around to say hi?"
Jim suppressed his ungrateful flare of irritation. Although he wouldn't have admitted it to a soul his head was aching like the devil and the closer they got to home the more his thoughts swirled around.
How the hell had he come to this? A married man, to all intents and purposes. Tied down with two children and an uncertain future. Surely this was the very opposite of what he'd planned for his life?
Even his career seemed to be over, at the least the part he'd cherished all these years. The excitement, the thrill of the hunt. Solving problems, matching wits with the bad guys and winning. After all, wasn't he the Sentinel? Wasn't that what he was supposed to be doing?
And yet here he was, his hard head a little the worse for wear, memory like Swiss cheese, heading into the home that had once been his tranquil haven from the world.
Blair gripped his arm lightly. "Don't worry about it, Jim, I'll clear them all out after we've said hello."
"It's not that I'm not grateful," Jim began.
Blair just smiled and nodded. "It's just that you're fresh out of hospital and need rest."
Jim smiled back at him, feeling guilty. It wasn't that he doubted his love for this man, even if he still wasn't entirely clear from whence it had sprung. He knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life by Blair's side. That knowledge predated his year's holey memory.
It was just that none of this seemed quite right to him yet. Two children? What the hell kind of father could he be to two children who were still only vague shadows to him? With the fatherly example he had, probably a pretty poor one.
His whole life had spun out of control, and somehow he had blinked and missed it.
Blair unlocked the door and then Jim was facing them, all his friends, standing up and turning to smile at him. He knew them all and he returned their smiles and greetings. Megan came up and hugged him and Jim returned the embrace tentatively. He knew her too of course, but right now she was permeated with a scent that for some reason made him unaccountably nervous.
"The twins are asleep," she informed him. "I suppose you're dying to look in on them."
Jim nodded but made no move towards Blair's old bedroom. His hearing picked up two fast little heartbeats but he blocked them out, turning towards the lounge room.
"He must be exhausted," he heard Blair explain behind him. "He wouldn't even let me wheel him out of the hospital."
"Of course he wouldn't," Simon said gruffly. "When has he ever?" He drained his coffee and laid the mug on the counter. "I have to be going, I'm meeting Daryl at the museum this afternoon."
Rafe and Henry pulled their coats off hooks and began shrugging into them. Blair cast a look over at him but Jim stayed silent, rising to shake the men's hands as they bid their goodbyes.
Megan looked from Jim to the departing men and then back again. "Simon?" she called after the captain. "Can I grab a ride with you to the museum? There's a coffee shop near there I just love."
"You don't have to rush off," Blair said to her in a low voice.
Megan smiled and kissed his cheek. "I'll be back later to pick up my gear," she said softly. Jim made to stand up again but she pressed him back on the couch and leaned over, bestowing a kiss on his cheek. "Take care of yourself, Jimbo," she murmured.
Now Jim really did feel guilty. After all she was only here because she'd been staying in the loft, looking after his children.
His children...
Jim swallowed hard.
Blair closed the door behind Megan and stood with his back to it, studying Jim from across the loft.
"Why didn't you just give them the bum's rush?" he said laconically. "It would have been quicker."
"I didn't ask them to leave," Jim protested.
"Not in so many words," Blair agreed. He crossed the room and sat next to Jim. "You okay?"
I'm fine," Jim said shortly. He stretched his legs out in front of him. "Like you said, I'm just tired."
Blair cast a look over to his old bedroom, his thoughts clear on his face. He didn't speak them aloud though. "I'll take your bag up and then check on the twins. Nearly feeding time."
Jim watched him go. Feeding time. Did he remember that? All his memories seemed to involve formula and bottles and diapers. But when he tried to grasp a clear image of the twins it was like reaching for smoke. Panic was setting in, fear its boon companion. What would Blair say when he realised Jim was faking his way through this?
~~~~~
Jim sat stubbornly on the couch, arms crossed. His hearing was so wide open he could picture every move Blair made. He might as well have been standing in the doorway. Jim felt his heart pounding as he listened to Blair crooning nonsense words. He had to go in there. He had to face their future, no matter how daunting it might be.
In the doorway he stumbled to a stop, arrested by the sight of Blair sitting in a rocker, tiny bundle in his arms.
"She's so small," Jim gasped out, trying to connect the vague images in his head with this little fragment of humanity. The baby was maybe thirteen or fourteen inches long, from the top of her silken dark hair to the tip of her booty clad toes. Skinny little legs curled and flexed as she nursed, emerging absurdly from a diaper that looked huge.
Jim took another step forward, mesmerised. "I'd forgotten how small she was," he said, memories flooding back. The feel of her hand around his finger, the fragrance of her hair. The incredible softness of her fine skin. She was wearing a pink sprigged shirt and her thin little arms wavered towards the bottle she was rapidly draining, starfish hands flexing.
Jim stepped forward again, staring down into her creased little face. Her head could fit in the palm of his hand and the vulnerable curve of her narrow neck and tiny chest wrung his heart. Blair was patting her back rhythmically as she suckled and another memory sprang full grown into Jim's head.
"She likes you to pat her back when you feed her," he said. "And she likes to be swaddled tight when she sleeps."
Blair smiled and rocked, still patting gently. "It mimics my heartbeat from when I was carrying her. I think she still wishes she were in the womb.' He nodded towards the crib. "Feed Ammie," he suggested.
Jim blinked and turned, gazing down into the crib. If possible Ammie was even smaller than Jordan was. Her fluff of hair was red gold and stood straight up, like a parrot's crest. Her little legs had kicked her blankets away and they were now sprawled out comfortably, toes flexing in her cotton socks. Her eyes were closed but her lips pursed, bubbles of spit dribbling down her dimpled chin.
His hands remembered lifting her, and before Jim knew it he was picking her up and cradling her against his chest. "Five weeks old," he whispered, gingerly weighing her up. "They're still so small."
"Premmies," Blair said. "Remember if I'd been able to carry them full term they wouldn't even be newborns now."
Jim gazed down into Ammie's face, memories crashing over him. He cradled her closer. "She nearly died," he recalled, voice hoarse.
Blair shot him a sharp look and Jim met it, his eyes blurry with tears.
"She nearly died, Blair."
"We never really talked about that," Blair said quietly.
Jim looked back down at Ammie, his hand slipping under her soft shirt and connecting with her little round belly. He stroked gently, memories washing back over him with every touch of her fine skin.
"I knew as soon as she was born that she was in trouble," he said, firmly in the past. "I sat in that waiting room waiting for Paul to tell me she was dead. I hadn't even come to terms with being a father yet and I was already faced with losing my child."
Blair gently tugged the bottle from Jordan's lips and laid it on the floor. Then he stood and crossed the small space, sitting down next to Jim and Ammie. Jim lifted his free arm and wrapped it around his mate's waist.
"When Paul came and told me she was gonna pull through..." Jim broke off, choked with emotion. "Nothing else mattered." He buried his nose in Ammie's hair again. "How could I forget them?"
Blair squeezed his waist tightly. "You remember now."
"Everything," Jim whispered. "All the other things I worried about, they mean nothing, Chief. Everything important is right here. That's what I had to remember."
"I knew you would," Blair said serenely.
"Took me long enough," Jim grumbled.
"Well, I didn't like to say..." Blair agreed. Then he chuckled, burying his face in Jordan's silky hair.
~~~~~
Jim sat on the floor and leaned back against the couch, TV remote in one hand. Jordan was sitting on his lap, her back to his chest. He looked down with a grin. Not exactly sitting, his free hand had to keep her from drooping to one side or the other. Her eyes were wide open for a change, myopic blue eyes that blinked and fluttered, absurdly long lashes shadowing her cheeks.
Megan came down the stairs with her bag in her hand, chuckling over her shoulder at something Blair was saying. "I'm the one that should thank you," she laughed. "As a crash course in motherhood looking after five week old twins should be mandatory."
"Yeah, if you're pushing for zero population growth," Blair retorted.
"Nonsense," Megan dismissed. "We had a ball."
"All the same," Jim said, tilting his head and looking up at her. "We're very grateful."
Megan waved a hand. "You can do the same for me sometime."
"It's a promise."
"You might regret that some day, Sandy," Megan said fondly. She kissed Ammie in Blair's arms, then leaned over and bussed Jordan's head and Jim's cheek. "Take care of this lot, Jim," she said softly. Then she stroked Jordan's head. "And you take care of your Daddies."
Blair saw her out of the door and came back over to the couch, sitting down and propping Ammie on his lap. "We have to buy her a nice gift in thanks."
"Yeah, and maybe we should take all the guys out to dinner too."
"Not until I find out who bought the disposable diapers," Blair said ominously.
"No washing diapers," Jim wheedled. "Just throw them away..."
"Where they sit on a land fill destroying the eco-system for ever," Blair returned sweetly.
Jim grinned. "You never change, Chief."
"Not about some things," Blair said stubbornly.
Jim gazed into his eyes. "Don't change, Chief," he said deeply.
Blair smiled and ruffled his hair fondly. "I can't promise that, Jim. But I can promise never to stop loving you, how's that?"
Jim nodded. "It'll do." He pulled himself up and sat next to Blair on the couch, curving their bodies together. In their arms the twins cooed and wriggled, little limbs stretching in the rays of afternoon sunlight.
"We have it all, don't we?"
"And the stars too," Jim whispered.
The End
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