Disclaimer 1: I do not own the universe or characters of The Sentinel; they are, instead, owned by Bilson & DeMeo, Pet Fly Productions, Paramount, and UPN. (I believe that the actors, Richard Burgi and Garett Maggart, could also make a claim to ownership as co-creators of the characters. But what do I know.) I write this not for profit but for fun.

Disclaimer 2: I have quoted a few lines of dialogue from the episode "Flight," originally penned by Gail Morgan Hickman.

Note 1: I was encouraged by J.C. to write a short piece based on the song "At Last," since I brought up its potential as a Jim/Blair song. I do not do "song stories," meaning that you will not see wholesale quotation of lyrics stuck into the middle of this piece. I have, however, included the lyrics at the end as an endnote.

Note 2: I wrote this while I was having writer's block about another TS story. This story has been beta'd only by me. I did run a spell-check on it, using U.S. spelling conventions. Gentle constructive feedback is welcome; flames are not.

Ellison and Sandburg had been rather subdued during the flight from Peru, each having much to think about, each unsure what was to come when they returned, neither quite sure what he was returning to.

Sure, they talked -- there was no way to stay absolutely silent on a journey that long.

But they had carefully, by tacit agreement, shepherded their words away from the dangerous cliffs, guarding them carefully lest one innocent word lead its siblings down treacherous paths, lest they all tumble by twos, then threes, then fours -- all falling by their own momentum until the impact of their fall split them wide open, the once carefully hidden spilling out, on view for both to see.

By the time they returned to the loft, they were exhausted.

They dropped their bags, looked around, caught their breath.

Blair, seeing the blinking red light on the answering machine, pressed 'play,' as Jim headed straight for the refrigerator, finding a couple of beers to share with his friend.

Self-consciously, they listened as a woman's voice announced the same message, over and over -- each version of the message delivered with more urgency:

"This is Dr. Eli Stoddard's office. Would you please call us at 555-4678?"

BEEP "Hello, this is Dr. Stoddard's office again. It's very important that we speak to you. The number is 555-4678."

BEEP "This is Dr. Stoddard's office. Dr. Stoddard needs a final answer about Borneo. If you're still interested, please call us A.S.A.P. at 555-4678."

Jim slowly approached his roommate, reaching out to him with a bottle of beer, his hand curled over the top. Blair reached out gratefully -- his face slightly dusty, a bit sweaty, still marked by scratches.

Jim knew it was time and he was almost ready. Almost ready to step off one more cliff. A different kind of cliff.

But before he was ready, he took one last look back.

Back to a time when everything seemed almost colorless, tinged in an inky dun -- not the quaint sepia of antique photographs, but the color of stains left behind when the sewer overflows. A time when he was driven by a simmering repressed anger, his only pleasure the hunt, his only counsel his own.

Then, to a time when everything exploded. When he was assaulted by sounds, colors, odors. When the sound of boiling water seemed to come from inside his head, when a drop of gasoline burned his nose, when the tang of paprika seared his tongue.

Then, to a time when another traveler on another path, had bumped into him at a crossing. Had puzzled him, then angered him, then saved his life.

Blair had come along.

At last.

From that time, their paths merged and they traveled together.

And Blair rinsed away the sewery stains and eased the pain of the harsh lights, the screaming sounds, the stench -- unlocking Jim from the prison of his paralysis.

It was Blair who filled the empty places in Jim's soul; who slowly convinced Jim first that the lonely days could be over, then that they were over.

Jim knew that he could not go back because all the landmarks had been altered, the landscape was overgrown with memories and all the memories had Blair's face.

Blair's face. A face he had grown to love.

How could he not?

How could anyone not love looking into those eyes -- those dark blue, almost purple eyes?

How could he not love the way Blair looked at him? Looked at him unwavering, sometimes from 2 inches away. Looked at him with every emotion leaking from those beautiful eyes -- fear, anger, puzzlement, humor, and maybe love.

Maybe.

No he could not go back.

But was he ready to go forward?

Did he want to hear Blair answer that call? Was he ready to know that Blair would leave him for at least a year to go to Borneo? That Blair would leave him alone again?

Was he ready?

Jim took a deep breath before stepping to the edge, "Better give 'em a call."

And Jim was in mid-air, suspended.

And Blair looked down over the edge of the cliff.

He knew he could turn right and follow the lead of his mentor, Professor Stoddard, who would guide him along the gentle slope to safety.

Or he could step forward with Jim, right over this cliff.

This was a tough call for an acrophobe. An acrophobe with no parachute, no less.

But there had really never been any question.

Not when he saw the look in Jim's eyes when Jim had first heard about the trip to Borneo. That look of panic, loss, then anger.

Not when he saw the look on Jim's face when later he said "I'm glad you came."

There was no question at all in Blair's mind: "Actually... I've decided not to go. I mean, if you'll let me stay."

And Blair was suspended in mid-air.

Jim, no longer suspended, floated, descending slowly, "I thought Borneo was the chance of a lifetime."

And Blair floated beside Jim, "It is. But this Sentinel thing... It's more than just a research project. It's about friendship. I just never got it before."

Blair looked up into Jim's eyes with all the love he had in him, his eyes locking onto his friend's and holding on.

Together, silently, they descended into a deep pool of water. When they surfaced, Jim smiled.

At last.

He smiled and it was magic.

And Jim spoke volumes in that smile, his "Okay" a mere exclamation point.

And Blair swallowed the lump in his throat.

Moving to the balcony and opening the glass door, they stepped outside to look out over the city.

Blair chugged some beer and commented, "You know... you were really something in the jungle. I've never seen you so focused... so in control. It was pretty amazing. ... You never did tell me how you got your powers back."

Jim evaded, "They just came back."

"Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything?"

"I'm too tired to answer questions right now. Besides... we're home. Let's enjoy it."

And Blair saw the wisdom in that, "Welcome home... partner."

At last.