By Heidi

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Tating PG for a cuss word.

Thanks to Taibhrigh for the read through.

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Jim listened to the latest round of tattoo talk. It cropped up every so often when someone in the department decided to get marked. This time it was Connor. She'd been debating getting a tattoo for a while and was finally going to get one. Now she was looking for someone to go with her for moral support and possibly get a tattoo at the same time.

"I'll go with you," Blair spoke up.

"Not on your life, Sandburg," Jim declared as he walked past the cluster of detectives.

"I didn't say I was going to get one, Jim," Blair retorted. "Although I should just to spite you," he added under his breath just loud enough so Jim would hear it.

"He, he, he," Jim laughed never breaking his stride.

He had a secret. It was something only his lovers knew about.

For as much shit as he gave Sandburg about getting a tattoo over the years, his guide never knew he had one himself. It sat low on his back, below his waistband. He'd gotten it back when he was in the army in covert ops. Each member of his team had gone together to get them done. Each choosing something that represented him. He was stealth. His tattoo was a black panther stretched out in a run.

He knew Sandburg would have a field day if he ever found out about it. His Guide would talk about the symbolism of it and how he'd known subconsciously about his Spirit Guide long before his sense came back on-line. He didn't want to talk about it which is why he never told Blair about it. It was his secret and that's the way it would remain.

Fin

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