A Fair Distance: Comes a Time. Chapter Eleven
Title: A Fair Distance: Comes a Time. Chapter Eleven.
Fandom The Sentinel
Author: Laurie
Type: Slash
Rating: PG-17 (for the series)
Word count: 3540 words
Warnings: Link to warnings for the entire series
Written for Sentinel Thursday Challenge 247. Meditation
Beta’ed by t_verano Thank you seems inadequate, but, Thank You.
Summary for A Fair Distance: A year after Blair left Jim, and Cascade, they meet again in a small Tennessee town. Blair's been arrested and is being held for questioning at the request of the Cascade PD.
This is the third and final arc to the story, and the two earlier arcs, A Fair Distance:Running on Empty and A Fair Distance: Ball and Chain, as well as several time stamps, can be located at my LJ here or at Artifact Storage Room 3 here or at AO3 here. I believe that AO3 has a nifty feature that allows you to download onto E-readers.
* * *
When Jim and I met for lunch at Gino's, he tried to talk me out of going with him and Steven to William's house that evening to help sort out his dad's belongings, but I stuck to my guns. Anyway, it was gonna be more traumatic for Jim to return than for me, and I wanted to be there to support him.
I didn't phrase it that way, though. Our conversation boiled down to something more like this:
Jim: “No way, Jose.” Translation: I love you and I'm worried that returning to the place where my father tried to kill you will keep you having nightmares for the rest of your life. So I'm putting my foot down because you need protection from the evil things of the world, and you don't have enough sense to avoid them on your own.
Me: “Oh, I'm coming. I'm not staying in the truck on this one.” Translation: I'm your partner, and you aren't going to shut me out. Trust me to know what I can handle, and besides, whither thou goest, remember? Through bad times as well as good times.
Jim: “I don't have time to swing over to the loft and pick you up. We'll be there pretty late and you should just go to bed early, get some rest.” Translation: You almost died. I just want you to get your strength back; going there will be emotionally draining, and I don't want to put you through that.
Me: “I've already called Steven, and he's going to pick me up. I'll ride home with you.” Translation: I'm coming, but I'll be all right. You and Steven will be there and together we're doing this. And then we'll go home. Together. I'm not letting you face this on your own.
Jim: “Blair?...” Translation: Are you sure you're going to be okay? Because you don't have to do this. I'll understand if you give it a miss.
Me: “Jim.” Translation: I love you; I'm coming. We'll be okay. Are we done discussing this now?
Jim: “Want some of my pasta?” Translation: You win. But you're still too skinny.
I graciously accepted a heaping spoonful of his Bono Vita Pollo to cement the deal and told him about my mom's phone call this morning.
Naomi had come to see me and Jim a few days after William's funeral. She'd been out of the country playing tour guide for her boyfriend when the messages we'd sent out into the universe had finally caught up to her. She'd left her boyfriend at their rented villa outside of Rome and flown to Cascade.
It had been wonderful to see her. As I'd expected, Mom was accepting of Jim and me having a sexual relationship, and earnest and sincere with her condolences on William's death. She maneuvered Jim out the door on a quest to find organic tongue so she could make me my favorite dish and then sat down with me to go over her real agenda -- a heart-to-heart chat on the follies of committing oneself to a permanent relationship. I'd had to be a little insistent that I wanted to grow old with Jim, and she'd given me the “I hear that, Sweetie” response. I had the feeling that she suspected I was just going through a phase.
Horrified about the attempts on my life, she'd tried to persuade me to come away with her to Rome and stay with her and Thomas. She assured me that he would welcome my company. Naomi has a strong flight response to stressful situations, but I was trying to not emulate her in that regard. I just smiled at her and shook my head. Anyway, Naomi's boyfriends never were as enthralled with my company when I did visit her as she believed they were.
I told her then about how I'd learned to read auras. Also, that until I'd gotten over being ill, I'd promised to not do it.
She thought that was wise, and we discussed the relationship between health and spiritual wellness for a while. Then I set up candles and we meditated together until Jim came home, triumphant with his package of tongue and other needed groceries.
It had been a good visit for the three days she'd stayed, and she promised to come see me again when Thomas returned to the States. He'd rented the villa for several more months, and they had plans to travel in Spain and France and Portugal after that, so I didn't expect to see her until summertime rolled around.
“Chief, what'd your mom say when she called this morning?” Jim asked.
“Oh, Mom's great. She's teaching Thomas to meditate and they had a nice time visiting Ostia Antica. She said I would really love seeing the ruins of Portus. They're going next to Naples, visit the botanical garden there and some of the churches and museums. Thomas is a bit of a history buff.”
“Wish you'd taken her up on her offer to go stay with her and the boyfriend?” Jim said, and smiled toothily at me.
I smacked him on the arm. “Uh, no. I'd like to travel with you someday and play tourist, though.”
Jim smiled at me again, a real one this time, and dumped more pasta on my plate.
He dropped me off later at the loft, and I trudged up the stairs instead of taking my chances with the elevator. I had started to walk maybe two miles a day, and my stamina was increasing. The overdose I'd experienced plus the remnants of mono and strep had done a number on me; it had made me determined to regain the strength I'd lost. I'd talked to Jim about going to the gym with him, and he was eager to show me the ropes on strength training as soon as he decided I was recovered enough. I still fell asleep way too easily for his peace of mind.
I hung up my new leather jacket - Christmas present from Jim - and flopped onto the couch. I could do some more work on my diss or go over my lesson plans again for teaching the Seattle detectives to work with their senses more effectively at crime scenes. I could meditate. I really needed to get myself centered sometime before Steven came by this evening to pick me up, so that I could handle myself and be a help to Jim, not a hindrance. I had learned to walk by the fountain where Alex had drowned me, so I could learn to walk into William's house and not have my heartbeat hit the roof.
So meditation was definitely on the agenda for this afternoon. But right now?
Nap time.
I trudged upstairs and stripped down to my boxers and climbed into Jim's bed.
Our bed.
I yawned and scrunched around, adjusting the pillows until I was comfortable and ready to slide into sleep, accompanied by the sound of rain dropping on the skylight.
When I woke up, it was raining even harder, and I was reluctant to get up right away. I'd slept in this bed, Jim's bed, every night since I'd been released from the hospital.
We'd held each other at night, bonding in simple human comfort and reassurance. Until the night I'd felt well enough and Jim was ready to be distracted from his grieving.
He started out by being so careful with me, using his tongue and fingers to awaken my arousal. He'd had me shaking with pleasure and need, incoherent, pleading for completion, and he'd given it to me. No holding back, no bringing me to the brink of orgasm and then taking it away again.
He was tender and loving and straightforward, and I wanted him to feel like I did, muscles melted into such a relaxed state, so that he would be able to truly rest. It had been so hard on him, his dad killing himself. Witih all the media crap, the assholes at the station, and missing his dad so much, well, Jim was stressed and his body was telling him about it in the form of headaches and muscular tension. I'd been giving him neck and back rubs and it helped, but that night I wanted more for him.
I could've given him a blow job, or gotten him off with my hands, but I didn't think doing that would relax him enough. He needed to get sweaty and move, burn up the adrenaline from the anger I knew he'd been experiencing for almost two weeks, even if he didn't show it towards me. So I asked him to fuck me.
We hadn't done that together since before I'd left Cascade. It was time.
Jim played with me, opening me up, but I was so relaxed from my earlier orgasm that even though I hadn't had this kind of sex for a long time, everything went smoothly.
When his fingers, slick with lube, caressed me, my arousal returned with a vengeance.
He lifted my legs over his shoulders and shoved a pillow under me, raising my ass to the right angle. He told me to look in his eyes, and I did, as he returned to opening me up, and I could see need, and love, and lust.
“You're mine, Blair. Say it.”
“M'yours.”
“Say it again.”
“J... Jim. I'm yours. Always, Enqueri.”
Jim made a sound of gratification, of satisfaction, primal and territorial, and then he began to enter me, slow, so slow; I pushed myself to meet him, to balance his energies with mine, and my body opened to his, as he sheathed himself inside me.
He held himself in check, waiting for me to adjust, and I started fucking myself on his cock. I had no leverage with my legs over his shoulders, so all I could really do was squirm.
It flashed through my mind what I must look like to him, wiggling like a fish on the end of his hook, desperate for him to start fucking me.
Jim wasn't laughing at me, though. “Okay, Chief. It's okay.” He bent over me, his hands on the mattress taking his weight. I was trapped under him, almost bent in two, and it was impossible for me to really move. He began fucking me and all I could do was to take it.
I loved it. Jim fucked me forever, it seemed, and my whole world narrowed down to the sensations I was feeling, the drops of sweat falling from his face onto me, the sounds of our bodies slapping together, the smell of sweat and sex and come, and the rhythm of him pounding my ass.
That sweet jolt as his dick nudged my prostate, the feeling of being stretched, of being full of him, of being taken by him, God, it was so good.
I screamed when I came, the friction from our bodies pushing me over into orgasm, and Jim moved faster, panting, and then freezing, eyes shutting and facial muscles tense as he flooded me, then slowly relaxing as he gave a great sigh.
He slowly, slowly slipped out of me and eased down on his back, and I found the energy to slide on top of him, letting my weight hold him down.
I kissed him thoroughly. He'd asked me to verbalize that I was his: I wanted to hear him say the same thing back to me.
“You're mine, too, James Joseph Ellison. Tell that truth to me.”
He looked so beautiful, so naked and exposed, as he let me see how much he loved me.
He held my face between his hands, as he'd done so many times before, sometimes in amusement, sometimes in passion, sometimes to make sure I was paying him the attention he thought he deserved, and whispered my name, then gave me an incandescent smile.
“You... I need you like I need oxygen. I'm yours. Always, Little Shaman.”
He drew my face down for more kisses, and then as our exhaustion overtook us, we fell asleep in each others' arms, comforted by our lovemaking.
That had been several weeks ago, and after sleeping alone for so long, I found that making love and holding Jim in his sleep, or him holding me, was a buffer against the craziness that had slammed us since returning to Cascade.
I abandoned the warm bed for the chillier room and got dressed, headed downstairs and into the bathroom. I splashed water on my face to finish waking up before I went out to set up my meditation candles in the living room.
I'd started trying to do some daily meditation to help me handle the chaos that seemed to want to swallow us up. Today, though, I'd focus again on what had happened at William's house.
I'd do some yoga first, stretch my muscles before deciding what meditation position to use. Naomi was fondest of the full lotus position, but then she was a champion at meditating and doing yoga.
I hadn't done a lot of either this last year, and I probably should work my way into feeling comfortable with the full lotus. Maybe use the half lotus, or a cross-legged yang position, like I'd been doing while traveling with Jim across the country.
I left the bathroom and stood in front of our large living room windows and began to calm my mind and stretch my body.
~oo~oo~oo~oo~
Well past relaxation, deep into the second stage of meditation, I opened myself to reflect upon the path that had led me to William's house the night of his death. I had hoped, upon beginning this meditation, to accept the horror I had witnessed, to let go of the fear I'd felt for myself and William and the sorrow that had flooded me upon realizing I was helpless to stop William from choosing the act of suicide. I wasn't trying to erase those memories or feelings, but I needed to be able to consider them without my heart starting to race or feeling overwhelmed with my emotions. I had to be focused and calm this evening in order to help Jim handle his reactions. One drowning man can't save another, and I would not let Jim go under. I would accept my emotions and find the accompanying emotional distance from that day that I needed so I could cope.
But meditation can be a winding path, and I found myself at a point I hadn't realized needed to be explored.
I had agreed to William's request to come to see him that night and to keep it a secret. What had been my motivations for that decision?
It was not as simple as having a desire to help others. I did, I knew that. I believed in it as a way of life. To help William, though, I hadn't been bound to take the route that I had. As Jim had told me, when we'd had our very painful talk about that night, he'd have come with me and together we could have assuaged William's unnamed fears about him.
What else had motivated me to act the way I had when William had asked me to come to his house? Well, he'd been looking to me to solve his problem. That... had fed my ego. It had made me feel needed. Special. I had wanted him to like me, to see me as belonging in Jim's life. I had thought he was asking me over because I had an expertise in understanding how Jim's senses worked.
There was more. I could have called Jim and told him what his dad wanted, instead of leaving a note that skirted both Jim's and William's requirements of me. Jim hadn't wanted me to ditch protective custody and William hadn't wanted me to tell his son that we'd talked until after we'd had our conversation. I technically hadn't left protective custody, but I'd manipulated Henri into thinking what I was up to was kosher. Leaving the note, knowing that Jim couldn't read it until later, when I'd been sure I'd be at the safe house, also had technically fulfilled William's requirement. I'd been pleased about my strategy to help William and not worry Jim till I knew what William was upset about.
Henri should have kicked my ass when he found out what I'd pulled, but he'd kicked his own ass instead. He'd told Jim and Simon that he felt it was his fault that William had a chance to kill me. He said he should have double-checked that Jim had okayed the stop. He'd trusted me, and I'd abused that trust. It didn't count that I had thought it was a harmless thing to do. He'd forgiven me, but probably he would never totally trust me again. It was no more than I deserved.
Jim agreed that Henri shouldn't have taken my word, but said he wouldn't have pegged his dad as posing any danger to me. He might have even said okay about stopping by, although his inclination was usually to just lay things out on the table and not have all the behind his back drama.
I'd known that Jim wouldn't want me to stop and see William by myself, given the circumstances, not that I'd really thought about it that way at the time. I'd agreed partly because I'd seen my actions as protecting Jim. I loved Jim, and you protected the person you loved from experiencing any unpleasantness and anxiety, if you could. I didn't want him to be worried about his dad, not if I could do something about it.
Ah, jeez.
There it was again, the way of thinking that I'd developed as a kid from protecting Naomi from learning her boyfriend was sexually abusing me.
Jim was my partner, and he didn't want me to shield him from things that concerned him. I knew that. We'd talked about it on the drive to Cascade. I had gone with my old pattern of behavior instead of thinking things through. For so long, I'd really only had myself to depend on, and making decisions hadn't been a joint venture.
That wasn't the case anymore. Jim and I were a team, and I should have told my partner that his dad was concerned about him. I shouldn't have allowed William's pleas to override the essential basis of our newly forged relationship.
Those old patterns of behavior, they were hard to recognize sometimes. I remembered those black holes I'd seen in my aura months ago and knew I still had work to do. Maybe I would do some reading again on the long-term effects of childhood sexual abuse. I could return to counseling for a time. I had student status again at Rainier and was entitled to use their counseling service.
I also had to accept that I'd made mistakes, to agree to learn and grow from them, and to move on.
Tonight, after we'd returned from sorting William's things and lying in bed with Jim, the room dark except for the skylight's dim glow, when it was easier for both of us to speak of personal things, I'd ask him to hold me and I'd tell him what I'd learned about myself during this meditation.
Jim said he didn't blame me for his dad's death. I believed him.
He had been angry that I'd deceived Henri; he said he was over it, but I wasn't sure he really had forgiven me. Forgiveness didn't come easily to Jim, but I also knew he didn't want to rock the boat concerning our resurrected relationship. Almost certainly, it was still a sore spot, but I would do my best to reassure Jim that we would be okay. His anger needed to be expressed in a healthy way, or when I could check his aura, I'd see once again the muddy red of anger polluting the bright, clear colors I'd last seen.
I shifted my thoughts onto a new path then, fast forwarding so to speak, to my entry into William's house. I would visualize the events that had occurred, isolate them, allow my mind and body to accept them, to review them calmly and compassionately.
Jim's terrified face when I'd manifested in front of him, the fear I'd felt when I'd realized I couldn't re-enter my body, the gun battle, William's pointing the gun at his head and my helplessness to stop him, Jim's look of desolation upon seeing his father's body, and the panicked and stubborn expression on his face when he ordered me to not leave him... I would focus on all of those images and emotions. I began my task by mentally repeating to myself a calming mantra whenever I began to feel overwhelmed, and then I would sink down into the experience, bringing that calmness with me.
I continued until Steven's knock on the door ended my session. I got up, stretched, blew out the candles, and I let him in the door.
~oo~oo~oo~oo~
Laurie
A Fair Distance. Comes a Time. Chapter Twelve
Fandom The Sentinel
Author: Laurie
Type: Slash
Rating: PG-17 (for the series)
Word count: 3540 words
Warnings: Link to warnings for the entire series
Written for Sentinel Thursday Challenge 247. Meditation
Beta’ed by t_verano Thank you seems inadequate, but, Thank You.
Summary for A Fair Distance: A year after Blair left Jim, and Cascade, they meet again in a small Tennessee town. Blair's been arrested and is being held for questioning at the request of the Cascade PD.
This is the third and final arc to the story, and the two earlier arcs, A Fair Distance:Running on Empty and A Fair Distance: Ball and Chain, as well as several time stamps, can be located at my LJ here or at Artifact Storage Room 3 here or at AO3 here. I believe that AO3 has a nifty feature that allows you to download onto E-readers.
* * *
When Jim and I met for lunch at Gino's, he tried to talk me out of going with him and Steven to William's house that evening to help sort out his dad's belongings, but I stuck to my guns. Anyway, it was gonna be more traumatic for Jim to return than for me, and I wanted to be there to support him.
I didn't phrase it that way, though. Our conversation boiled down to something more like this:
Jim: “No way, Jose.” Translation: I love you and I'm worried that returning to the place where my father tried to kill you will keep you having nightmares for the rest of your life. So I'm putting my foot down because you need protection from the evil things of the world, and you don't have enough sense to avoid them on your own.
Me: “Oh, I'm coming. I'm not staying in the truck on this one.” Translation: I'm your partner, and you aren't going to shut me out. Trust me to know what I can handle, and besides, whither thou goest, remember? Through bad times as well as good times.
Jim: “I don't have time to swing over to the loft and pick you up. We'll be there pretty late and you should just go to bed early, get some rest.” Translation: You almost died. I just want you to get your strength back; going there will be emotionally draining, and I don't want to put you through that.
Me: “I've already called Steven, and he's going to pick me up. I'll ride home with you.” Translation: I'm coming, but I'll be all right. You and Steven will be there and together we're doing this. And then we'll go home. Together. I'm not letting you face this on your own.
Jim: “Blair?...” Translation: Are you sure you're going to be okay? Because you don't have to do this. I'll understand if you give it a miss.
Me: “Jim.” Translation: I love you; I'm coming. We'll be okay. Are we done discussing this now?
Jim: “Want some of my pasta?” Translation: You win. But you're still too skinny.
I graciously accepted a heaping spoonful of his Bono Vita Pollo to cement the deal and told him about my mom's phone call this morning.
Naomi had come to see me and Jim a few days after William's funeral. She'd been out of the country playing tour guide for her boyfriend when the messages we'd sent out into the universe had finally caught up to her. She'd left her boyfriend at their rented villa outside of Rome and flown to Cascade.
It had been wonderful to see her. As I'd expected, Mom was accepting of Jim and me having a sexual relationship, and earnest and sincere with her condolences on William's death. She maneuvered Jim out the door on a quest to find organic tongue so she could make me my favorite dish and then sat down with me to go over her real agenda -- a heart-to-heart chat on the follies of committing oneself to a permanent relationship. I'd had to be a little insistent that I wanted to grow old with Jim, and she'd given me the “I hear that, Sweetie” response. I had the feeling that she suspected I was just going through a phase.
Horrified about the attempts on my life, she'd tried to persuade me to come away with her to Rome and stay with her and Thomas. She assured me that he would welcome my company. Naomi has a strong flight response to stressful situations, but I was trying to not emulate her in that regard. I just smiled at her and shook my head. Anyway, Naomi's boyfriends never were as enthralled with my company when I did visit her as she believed they were.
I told her then about how I'd learned to read auras. Also, that until I'd gotten over being ill, I'd promised to not do it.
She thought that was wise, and we discussed the relationship between health and spiritual wellness for a while. Then I set up candles and we meditated together until Jim came home, triumphant with his package of tongue and other needed groceries.
It had been a good visit for the three days she'd stayed, and she promised to come see me again when Thomas returned to the States. He'd rented the villa for several more months, and they had plans to travel in Spain and France and Portugal after that, so I didn't expect to see her until summertime rolled around.
“Chief, what'd your mom say when she called this morning?” Jim asked.
“Oh, Mom's great. She's teaching Thomas to meditate and they had a nice time visiting Ostia Antica. She said I would really love seeing the ruins of Portus. They're going next to Naples, visit the botanical garden there and some of the churches and museums. Thomas is a bit of a history buff.”
“Wish you'd taken her up on her offer to go stay with her and the boyfriend?” Jim said, and smiled toothily at me.
I smacked him on the arm. “Uh, no. I'd like to travel with you someday and play tourist, though.”
Jim smiled at me again, a real one this time, and dumped more pasta on my plate.
He dropped me off later at the loft, and I trudged up the stairs instead of taking my chances with the elevator. I had started to walk maybe two miles a day, and my stamina was increasing. The overdose I'd experienced plus the remnants of mono and strep had done a number on me; it had made me determined to regain the strength I'd lost. I'd talked to Jim about going to the gym with him, and he was eager to show me the ropes on strength training as soon as he decided I was recovered enough. I still fell asleep way too easily for his peace of mind.
I hung up my new leather jacket - Christmas present from Jim - and flopped onto the couch. I could do some more work on my diss or go over my lesson plans again for teaching the Seattle detectives to work with their senses more effectively at crime scenes. I could meditate. I really needed to get myself centered sometime before Steven came by this evening to pick me up, so that I could handle myself and be a help to Jim, not a hindrance. I had learned to walk by the fountain where Alex had drowned me, so I could learn to walk into William's house and not have my heartbeat hit the roof.
So meditation was definitely on the agenda for this afternoon. But right now?
Nap time.
I trudged upstairs and stripped down to my boxers and climbed into Jim's bed.
Our bed.
I yawned and scrunched around, adjusting the pillows until I was comfortable and ready to slide into sleep, accompanied by the sound of rain dropping on the skylight.
When I woke up, it was raining even harder, and I was reluctant to get up right away. I'd slept in this bed, Jim's bed, every night since I'd been released from the hospital.
We'd held each other at night, bonding in simple human comfort and reassurance. Until the night I'd felt well enough and Jim was ready to be distracted from his grieving.
He started out by being so careful with me, using his tongue and fingers to awaken my arousal. He'd had me shaking with pleasure and need, incoherent, pleading for completion, and he'd given it to me. No holding back, no bringing me to the brink of orgasm and then taking it away again.
He was tender and loving and straightforward, and I wanted him to feel like I did, muscles melted into such a relaxed state, so that he would be able to truly rest. It had been so hard on him, his dad killing himself. Witih all the media crap, the assholes at the station, and missing his dad so much, well, Jim was stressed and his body was telling him about it in the form of headaches and muscular tension. I'd been giving him neck and back rubs and it helped, but that night I wanted more for him.
I could've given him a blow job, or gotten him off with my hands, but I didn't think doing that would relax him enough. He needed to get sweaty and move, burn up the adrenaline from the anger I knew he'd been experiencing for almost two weeks, even if he didn't show it towards me. So I asked him to fuck me.
We hadn't done that together since before I'd left Cascade. It was time.
Jim played with me, opening me up, but I was so relaxed from my earlier orgasm that even though I hadn't had this kind of sex for a long time, everything went smoothly.
When his fingers, slick with lube, caressed me, my arousal returned with a vengeance.
He lifted my legs over his shoulders and shoved a pillow under me, raising my ass to the right angle. He told me to look in his eyes, and I did, as he returned to opening me up, and I could see need, and love, and lust.
“You're mine, Blair. Say it.”
“M'yours.”
“Say it again.”
“J... Jim. I'm yours. Always, Enqueri.”
Jim made a sound of gratification, of satisfaction, primal and territorial, and then he began to enter me, slow, so slow; I pushed myself to meet him, to balance his energies with mine, and my body opened to his, as he sheathed himself inside me.
He held himself in check, waiting for me to adjust, and I started fucking myself on his cock. I had no leverage with my legs over his shoulders, so all I could really do was squirm.
It flashed through my mind what I must look like to him, wiggling like a fish on the end of his hook, desperate for him to start fucking me.
Jim wasn't laughing at me, though. “Okay, Chief. It's okay.” He bent over me, his hands on the mattress taking his weight. I was trapped under him, almost bent in two, and it was impossible for me to really move. He began fucking me and all I could do was to take it.
I loved it. Jim fucked me forever, it seemed, and my whole world narrowed down to the sensations I was feeling, the drops of sweat falling from his face onto me, the sounds of our bodies slapping together, the smell of sweat and sex and come, and the rhythm of him pounding my ass.
That sweet jolt as his dick nudged my prostate, the feeling of being stretched, of being full of him, of being taken by him, God, it was so good.
I screamed when I came, the friction from our bodies pushing me over into orgasm, and Jim moved faster, panting, and then freezing, eyes shutting and facial muscles tense as he flooded me, then slowly relaxing as he gave a great sigh.
He slowly, slowly slipped out of me and eased down on his back, and I found the energy to slide on top of him, letting my weight hold him down.
I kissed him thoroughly. He'd asked me to verbalize that I was his: I wanted to hear him say the same thing back to me.
“You're mine, too, James Joseph Ellison. Tell that truth to me.”
He looked so beautiful, so naked and exposed, as he let me see how much he loved me.
He held my face between his hands, as he'd done so many times before, sometimes in amusement, sometimes in passion, sometimes to make sure I was paying him the attention he thought he deserved, and whispered my name, then gave me an incandescent smile.
“You... I need you like I need oxygen. I'm yours. Always, Little Shaman.”
He drew my face down for more kisses, and then as our exhaustion overtook us, we fell asleep in each others' arms, comforted by our lovemaking.
That had been several weeks ago, and after sleeping alone for so long, I found that making love and holding Jim in his sleep, or him holding me, was a buffer against the craziness that had slammed us since returning to Cascade.
I abandoned the warm bed for the chillier room and got dressed, headed downstairs and into the bathroom. I splashed water on my face to finish waking up before I went out to set up my meditation candles in the living room.
I'd started trying to do some daily meditation to help me handle the chaos that seemed to want to swallow us up. Today, though, I'd focus again on what had happened at William's house.
I'd do some yoga first, stretch my muscles before deciding what meditation position to use. Naomi was fondest of the full lotus position, but then she was a champion at meditating and doing yoga.
I hadn't done a lot of either this last year, and I probably should work my way into feeling comfortable with the full lotus. Maybe use the half lotus, or a cross-legged yang position, like I'd been doing while traveling with Jim across the country.
I left the bathroom and stood in front of our large living room windows and began to calm my mind and stretch my body.
~oo~oo~oo~oo~
Well past relaxation, deep into the second stage of meditation, I opened myself to reflect upon the path that had led me to William's house the night of his death. I had hoped, upon beginning this meditation, to accept the horror I had witnessed, to let go of the fear I'd felt for myself and William and the sorrow that had flooded me upon realizing I was helpless to stop William from choosing the act of suicide. I wasn't trying to erase those memories or feelings, but I needed to be able to consider them without my heart starting to race or feeling overwhelmed with my emotions. I had to be focused and calm this evening in order to help Jim handle his reactions. One drowning man can't save another, and I would not let Jim go under. I would accept my emotions and find the accompanying emotional distance from that day that I needed so I could cope.
But meditation can be a winding path, and I found myself at a point I hadn't realized needed to be explored.
I had agreed to William's request to come to see him that night and to keep it a secret. What had been my motivations for that decision?
It was not as simple as having a desire to help others. I did, I knew that. I believed in it as a way of life. To help William, though, I hadn't been bound to take the route that I had. As Jim had told me, when we'd had our very painful talk about that night, he'd have come with me and together we could have assuaged William's unnamed fears about him.
What else had motivated me to act the way I had when William had asked me to come to his house? Well, he'd been looking to me to solve his problem. That... had fed my ego. It had made me feel needed. Special. I had wanted him to like me, to see me as belonging in Jim's life. I had thought he was asking me over because I had an expertise in understanding how Jim's senses worked.
There was more. I could have called Jim and told him what his dad wanted, instead of leaving a note that skirted both Jim's and William's requirements of me. Jim hadn't wanted me to ditch protective custody and William hadn't wanted me to tell his son that we'd talked until after we'd had our conversation. I technically hadn't left protective custody, but I'd manipulated Henri into thinking what I was up to was kosher. Leaving the note, knowing that Jim couldn't read it until later, when I'd been sure I'd be at the safe house, also had technically fulfilled William's requirement. I'd been pleased about my strategy to help William and not worry Jim till I knew what William was upset about.
Henri should have kicked my ass when he found out what I'd pulled, but he'd kicked his own ass instead. He'd told Jim and Simon that he felt it was his fault that William had a chance to kill me. He said he should have double-checked that Jim had okayed the stop. He'd trusted me, and I'd abused that trust. It didn't count that I had thought it was a harmless thing to do. He'd forgiven me, but probably he would never totally trust me again. It was no more than I deserved.
Jim agreed that Henri shouldn't have taken my word, but said he wouldn't have pegged his dad as posing any danger to me. He might have even said okay about stopping by, although his inclination was usually to just lay things out on the table and not have all the behind his back drama.
I'd known that Jim wouldn't want me to stop and see William by myself, given the circumstances, not that I'd really thought about it that way at the time. I'd agreed partly because I'd seen my actions as protecting Jim. I loved Jim, and you protected the person you loved from experiencing any unpleasantness and anxiety, if you could. I didn't want him to be worried about his dad, not if I could do something about it.
Ah, jeez.
There it was again, the way of thinking that I'd developed as a kid from protecting Naomi from learning her boyfriend was sexually abusing me.
Jim was my partner, and he didn't want me to shield him from things that concerned him. I knew that. We'd talked about it on the drive to Cascade. I had gone with my old pattern of behavior instead of thinking things through. For so long, I'd really only had myself to depend on, and making decisions hadn't been a joint venture.
That wasn't the case anymore. Jim and I were a team, and I should have told my partner that his dad was concerned about him. I shouldn't have allowed William's pleas to override the essential basis of our newly forged relationship.
Those old patterns of behavior, they were hard to recognize sometimes. I remembered those black holes I'd seen in my aura months ago and knew I still had work to do. Maybe I would do some reading again on the long-term effects of childhood sexual abuse. I could return to counseling for a time. I had student status again at Rainier and was entitled to use their counseling service.
I also had to accept that I'd made mistakes, to agree to learn and grow from them, and to move on.
Tonight, after we'd returned from sorting William's things and lying in bed with Jim, the room dark except for the skylight's dim glow, when it was easier for both of us to speak of personal things, I'd ask him to hold me and I'd tell him what I'd learned about myself during this meditation.
Jim said he didn't blame me for his dad's death. I believed him.
He had been angry that I'd deceived Henri; he said he was over it, but I wasn't sure he really had forgiven me. Forgiveness didn't come easily to Jim, but I also knew he didn't want to rock the boat concerning our resurrected relationship. Almost certainly, it was still a sore spot, but I would do my best to reassure Jim that we would be okay. His anger needed to be expressed in a healthy way, or when I could check his aura, I'd see once again the muddy red of anger polluting the bright, clear colors I'd last seen.
I shifted my thoughts onto a new path then, fast forwarding so to speak, to my entry into William's house. I would visualize the events that had occurred, isolate them, allow my mind and body to accept them, to review them calmly and compassionately.
Jim's terrified face when I'd manifested in front of him, the fear I'd felt when I'd realized I couldn't re-enter my body, the gun battle, William's pointing the gun at his head and my helplessness to stop him, Jim's look of desolation upon seeing his father's body, and the panicked and stubborn expression on his face when he ordered me to not leave him... I would focus on all of those images and emotions. I began my task by mentally repeating to myself a calming mantra whenever I began to feel overwhelmed, and then I would sink down into the experience, bringing that calmness with me.
I continued until Steven's knock on the door ended my session. I got up, stretched, blew out the candles, and I let him in the door.
~oo~oo~oo~oo~
Laurie
A Fair Distance. Comes a Time. Chapter Twelve