New
Arrivals
Author-Laura Picken
Titles
What if I Stumble?
by Laura
Picken
Summary: Crossover with Touched by an Angel. With their partnership in jeapordy, Jim and Blair receive help from a different group of 'spirit guides.'
Hi all! Believe it or not, this story is a prequel to my first Sentinel fanfic, Blair Sandburg Ph.D. I just thought the background to that story provided enough possibilities for angst to keep this one going strong for a while. This is also my first piece of cathartic writing, which means I'm writing it to try and work out some things I'm going through in my own life (not any of the plot stuff, just some character things going on).
Disclaimer: You know the drill: Jim, Blair, Simon & Co. all belong to Pet Fly and Paramount. Tess, Monica, and Andrew belong to Martha Williamson, Moon Water Productions, and CBS. The song lyrics interspersed throughout the story are from the dcTalk song What if I Stumble, which, the more I thought about it, proved more and more to be a perfect 'angst' song for Blair & Jim. This is therapy for me, folks, so since it seems to be doing some good, you wouldn't possibly want to take that away for something so frivolous as a lawsuit, particularly since I'm not making any money off it, right?
***One note of clarification: The abbreviation ABD is short for all but dissertation.
And now, on with the show...
No one should have survived. The missile hit its target perfectly; the chopper went down in an area of thick jungle populated with all kinds of animals that would just love to prey on injured, defenseless men.
But then again, miracles happen everyday.
A young, dark-haired woman held the body of the only man to survive the crash in her lap, trying to stabilize his restlessly shifting head with her hands as a tall, fair-haired man stood a few feet from them, looking on. The glow that surrounded the three of them was enough incentive for any of the area's more dangerous predators to keep their distance, preferring instead to focus their attention on one of the seven men who weren't as fortunate.
In a light Irish brogue, the young woman asked her standing companion, "Andrew, do you know if he's going to make it?"
Andrew looked at their badly injured charge and sighed. "It's his choice, Monica. His will to live is strong enough for now, though."
Confused, Monica looked away from the injured man to her companion. "For now? What do you mean, for now?"
A large black woman appeared at her side, and knelt down to look lovingly at the injured man. "Baby girl, sometimes a man has to die to his old life before he can receive his new one. And sometimes learning to live that new life is far more difficult than dying to that old one."
Andrew walked away from the last of the seven he helped cross over to the man who they were so fiercely guarding. "It's time for his new life to begin, Monica. He has others coming who will help him now."
The older woman helped Monica to gently place the injured man into a more comfortable position and led her a few steps back from him. Monica said a quick prayer for God to protect the man and watch over him, then the group slowly walked away and disappeared into the jungle as the injured man, Captain James Ellison, slowly regained consciousness.
*****
Is this one for the people,
is this one for the Lord?
Or do I simply serenade
for things I must afford?
You can jumble them together,
but the conflict still remains;
holiness is calling
in the midst of courting fame.
*****
Several years later...
Blair Sandburg fidgeted nervously as he sat outside the conference room where the anthropology department's doctoral committee sat preparing to debate his future. He knew this was coming--the committee requires that you go to your advisor twice a year and submit proof that you're making some sort of progress toward the completion of your dissertation. You don't have to be making much progress, but as long as you submit something, they'll usually let it slide. The first year after he met Jim, he was able to submit anonymous lab testing results, and since the department chair was old and nearing retirement anyway, he was willing to take just about anything from the ABDs and let their funding ride for a year.
However, the chair retired unexpectedly a month ago due to some sort of major medical condition, and the interim chair was starting to crack down on people--not welcome news since he had started to realize that he would no longer be able to get away with letting the principal subject of his thesis remain anonymous. This was the third meeting he had heard about this month, and the first two people to go through it lost all their grants and were practically kicked out of school. Even as he prayed to every God he could think of to help him think of something to tell the committee, he was also mentally preparing how to tell Jim that he had to choose between protecting Jim's secret and being able to continue along the path toward publishing his dissertation on his life's work. In his mind, there was no option.
He just hoped Jim would let him continue to stay at the loft while he looked for another job.
The door to the conference room opened, and one of the committee members called him in. He sat down at his place at the end of the long conference table, and wondered idly if these things were specifically set up to intimidate people. He looked to the head of the table, and was surprised to see that the new committee chair was not one of the professors, as he had expected it to be, but was instead a large, older black woman with a surprising shock of white hair that he was absolutely certain he had never seen at the University before. In fact, she reminded him more of a blues singer he had met in New Orleans when he was a kid, who had helped him and Naomi get away from a man who had been abusing her and was about to turn his talons on Blair. He shrugged off the impossible possibility, though, as the object of his musings called the meeting to order. "Good afternoon, Mr. Sandburg. My name is Dr. Martinson. As I am sure you are aware, we are here to review your submissions to this dissertation committee and ascertain your progress toward completing your research." Blair nodded.
Dr. Martinson shuffled some papers around until she found the one that she was looking for, then asked, "Mr. Sandburg, I've read your masters thesis on the manifestations of enhanced senses in today's society. I was impressed, particularly with the amount of documentation you put in about the hundreds of people with enhanced senses that you had come in contact with. However, you have been working on your doctoral thesis on Sentinels for three years now, and two of those years you claim to have been working with a full Sentinel in the field on a daily basis. And yet the only documentation we have is a couple of lab tests you performed where the identity of your subject remained anonymous. My question to you, Mr. Sandburg, is why have you not provided more information to this committee?"
Blair started to open his mouth, fully prepared to say anything and everything he could think of to find a way out of the situation, but for some reason nothing came out. One of the other members of the committee looked at his file and asked, "does this have anything to do with the police observer credentials you have held for the past two years, Mr. Sandburg?"
Blair nodded. He looked at the woman sitting in front of him, and he simply could not lie to her. "The subject of my dissertation to date is in a very dangerous, high-profile career. I have to maintain his anonymity in the paper for his protection."
A third member of the committee commented, "you realize how that looks, considering the extraordinary claims you make about this person's abilities?"
Blair nodded, fully aware that no matter what his reputation may be or how strong his master's thesis was, having to keep Jim anonymous left the possibility wide open that he could be making up his data, and falsifying his information in the hopes of continuing in his teaching position at the University. Having an anonymous subject means that no one can perform the same experiments on the person, thereby corroborating your conclusions. For once in his life, Blair Sandburg was completely speechless. Not knowing what he could possibly say, he resigned himself to his fate.
Dr. Martinson looked intently at the dejected young man at the end of the table. [He has no idea that this is really for his own good,] she thought. As she prayed for patience, she declared her ruling. "Well, Mr. Sandburg, based on the strength of your prior work and your reputation as a teacher, I'm going to give you one more chance. We will convene the committee again in sixty days. At that time, you can either present us with more concrete documentation to back up the Sentinel theory, including detailed information on the subject of your research, or you can present us with another potential topic for your dissertation that will not be as concerned with anonymity. If you fail to provide us with viable research and documentation to support either your Sentinel theory or another alternative, your grants will not be renewed, you will lose your teaching position and you can find another University to support you and your theories. Are we in agreement?"
Blair weakly nodded. He didn't know what could have been worse -- being kicked out on his ass immediately, or getting this two-month reprieve to come up with something. He knew that he could never make Jim's secret public, so that wasn't an option. So he had to turn his whole life's work around in two months? How?
He heard Dr. Martinson dismiss him with, "very well, then, Mr. Sandburg. We expect to see you again in two months. Have a good day." Even in his half-dazed state, he was able to understand that as his cue to leave.
Blair made it all the way out of the anthropology building and all the way to the library before even thought about sitting down. He sat on the library steps, curled up into a ball, with his head in his hands. What was he going to do now?
*****
'Cause I see the trust in their eyes
though the sky is falling.
They need your love in their lives--
compromise is calling.
What if I stumble?
What if I fall?
What if I lose my step
and I make fools of us all?
Will the love continue
when the walk becomes a crawl?
What if I stumble?
And what if I fall?
*****
One thing that Jim Ellison hated more than anything was paperwork. It was days like this, where all he had to do was said dreaded paperwork, that he missed having his partner around more than anything. But Blair was stuck all day in University departmental meetings, and so Jim had to take over filling out the unbelievable mountain of forms that always seemed to follow the successful end of a case.
Bored out of his mind, Jim looked away from the computer he was working on and rubbed his eyes. He had read some place that working on computers affected your eyesight. He hoped that didn't apply to Sentinels, too. As he yawned, his hearing opened up (as it always did), and he was briefly able to pick up the conversation Simon was having with his guest in the other room. He was about to pull his concentration back to his paperwork when he heard Simon mention Sandburg's name. He focused on the conversation, trying to pick up why his captain would be discussing things about Blair with a woman neither of them had ever met before...
"Ms..." Simon's voice trailed off, apparently he was having a tough time remembering the woman's name.
"Smith. But you can call me Monica." He could detect the subtle, but extremely attractive Irish accent in her voice.
"All right. Monica, Detective Ellison already has an observer assigned to him. I can't possibly see a reason why I should sign off..."
Monica gently cut him off. "I understand that, Captain, and that is precisely the reason I want to observe them. It's public knowledge that they are the best team in your department, and that's what makes them so fascinating."
Simon sighed audibly. "You're not going to give up on this, are you?"
Jim could hear the rustling of Monica's hair as she shook her head.
Simon walked to the door of his office, and Jim barely had enough time to turn his hearing back down before his captain called out, "Ellison! I need to see you in my office."
Obediently, he set down the paperwork and walked into the office, where he was greeted with a most welcome sight. He hadn't really paid attention to the woman as she walked into the office, but he now realized what he had been missing. Monica was absolutely beautiful, with dark reddish-brown hair and beautiful dark eyes. Now _this_ was the kind of observer he wouldn't mind working with.
Simon continued on with his introductions as Jim smiled and shook Monica's hand. "Jim, this is Monica Smith, a new trainer at the academy. Seems that the department got some sort of grant from some community relations foundation and they're using the money for some new 'relationship' courses at the academy. Before the courses start next week, Monica has been sent to different precincts and divisions to observe officers that work well with each other, with the community, etc. And apparently, you and Sandburg were at the top of her list."
Jim glanced at the woman standing next to him and said, in a self-depreciating tone, "must be a very short list."
The comment elicited the desired laugh from Monica as Simon continued, "at any rate, I'm assigning her to you and Sandburg for the week." As he handed the detective a folder Simon directed him, "she can follow you around while you work on this case."
Jim looked through the case folder to find several pictures of children. School pictures, the kind that most parents kept by the dozens. He dug deeper to find the pictures he didn't want to find. The autopsy photos.
Simon explained the details of the case. "Six children in six days have disappeared from schools in the area. All blonde, blue-eyed eight year old girls. The next day each child has been found in a dumpster just outside of the school from which they were taken. They were bound, beaten, and shot between the eyes, although there are no signs of any sexual trauma." He looked Jim straight in the eye as he announced, "the seventh girl was just taken an hour ago. This time, though, we have witnesses. Three other children from the school turned around and caught a brief glimpse of her abductor as he got into the car and drove off. We've tried to get the children to come into the station for questioning but they've refused, so we're holding them at the school until you can get there. See if you can pull Sandburg out of whatever meetings he's in at school and bring him with you."
Jim replied simply, "thank you, sir," then escorted Monica out of the office.
*****
What if I stumble
What if I fall
You never turn in the heat of it all
What if I stumble
What if I fall
*****
Jim drove casually across the campus, heading for the anthropology building when he glanced out of the corner of his eye and noticed Sandburg sitting on the steps of the University library, staring dejectedly out into space. He quickly pulled the truck into the nearest parking space and ran straight to Blair, Monica following closely on his heels.
When the young man didn't move, Jim sat down next to him and nudged him on the shoulder. "Come on, chief, you're not zoning out on me, are you?"
The hand on his shoulder shook Blair out of his stupor. He jumped and turned to see his partner and a young woman he didn't recognize. "Oh, hi Jim! What's going on?"
[He _did_ zone! Wonder what that meeting was about?] thought Jim. "We have a crime scene we need to get to, chief. Simon asked me to pull you in specifically on this one."
Blair's eyes widened a bit in surprise. There were only two types of cases that Simon pulled him in specifically for: ones that involved some sort of ancient artifacts or something, and those were usually rare, or...he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat. The other types of cases were unfortunately all too common.
Jim read the reaction well enough that, to anyone who didn't know them, it would seem as if Jim had read Blair's mind. He put a hand on the younger man's shoulder and squeezed. "Yeah chief, it's one of those cases. I'll fill you in on the way."
Grateful to have something to focus on other than his academic troubles, Blair perked up a bit and followed Jim to the truck. Somehow, he knew instinctively, that no matter what happened in his life, he would always have this to fall back on. This partnership, and his friendship with Jim Ellison, was the one thing in his life right now that he would never lose.
Unseen to the two men, the large black woman Blair knew as Dr. Martinson appeared next to Monica as she was pulling herself up from the steps of the library. Monica, though, saw the woman, and commented to her as she was walking to the truck, "they seem very close, Tess. Almost like they were brothers."
Tess replied, "in some ways, they are, Monica. But that brotherhood is going to be tested to its limits very soon. Be ready."
As Monica solemnly nodded, she heard the horn of the truck. Blair and Jim had made it there before her, and wanted to alert her that they were leaving. As she walked toward the truck, Blair asked his partner, "so who's the girl?"
"Name's Monica Smith," replied Jim. "She's some new hotshot trainer they just hired for the academy. She's going to be teaching some sort of class on 'the partnership dynamic', or some such nonsense..."
Blair interrupted him. "And Simon assigned her to observe us? Does she know that I'm..."
Jim cut him off. "Yeah, she knows that you're not a real cop. And for some reason, Simon didn't have any real choice in the matter. The fact that you're a police observer, according to her, was the reason that she asked to observe us on this case."
Blair looked curiously at Jim. "And how did you find out that little piece of information?"
As Monica got in the back seat of the truck, Jim pointed to his ear and Blair laughed. If Simon only knew... As Jim pulled out of the parking space, Blair joked, "Jim, Jim, don't you know it's not polite to listen in on other people's conversations?"
*****
Father, please forgive me,
for I cannot compose the fear
that lives within me
or the rate at which it grows
*****
Jim decided not to pry into what was eating at his partner, preferring instead to fill him in on the details of the case. Guilt flooded him as he watched Blair's face pale with the details of what this psycho had done to those little girls. He hated doing this to Blair, exposing him to things that the young anthropologist might have only had to see occasionally on the news where they can blur into the endless array of sound bites that flows through the daily existence of every citizen of Cascade.
But instead of backing down, the young man threw himself into every new case, sometimes only through patiently helping Jim use his senses to pick out the minute details of evidence that could break the case if Forensics had his abilities to help them look, other times using his unique way with people to coax things out of them that a hard-nosed cop would never have a chance of finding out on his own. It amazed Jim every time he saw it, and made him respect Blair all the more. He hoped that, whatever happened at school today, Blair would be able to amaze him again today. A little girl's life might depend on it.
The trio walked into the classroom and found a teacher trying to reassure two little boys and a little girl that everything was going to be all right, that Alexa [must be the missing girl's name, thought Blair] was going to come back safe and sound and go home with her Mommy and Daddy. Monica prayed that they wouldn't make the teacher out to be a liar, then she noticed the man in the back of the room who was invisible to the others there. Andrew. A knot of concern formed in the pit of Monica's human stomach -- if Andrew was here, it meant that someone on this assignment stood a very good chance of dying. She nodded to Andrew, acknowledging his presence in the room, then walked over to watch as Blair tried to start a conversation with the three children.
The young anthropologist pulled up one of the tiny desks next to where the children clustered together for mutual strength and support, while Jim took their teacher aside to see how much the children might have entrusted to her. Wide-eyed with enthusiasm, Blair spoke with all the energy he could muster. "Hi there!"
The kids replied, "hi," but they spoke so quietly that even Jim, who was now listening to the conversation after finding out that the children were even more tight-lipped with their teacher, had trouble hearing it. Blair, however, pressed on undeterred. "My name's Blair. Can I talk with you guys for a bit?"
Something about Blair's relaxed manor made the kids want to open up to him. [Maybe it's the hair,] thought Jim. The two boys nodded their response, while the little girl replied, "I'm not a guy, I'm a girl!"
Blair seized on the opportunity. In his best clipped British accent he conceded, "oh, I'm terribly sorry, Miss. Terribly, terribly sorry..."
His voice trailed off as the children went off in a fit of giggles. All of the adults in the room smiled as Blair waited patiently for the children to calm down, then asked one of the boys, "what's your name?"
The blue-eyed boy answered, "Christopher," and awkwardly took Blair's proffered hand. As Christopher shook it, Blair bounced up and down, which sent the children into another enthusiastic fit of giggles.
Repeating the 'introductions' with the other two children obtained the fact that their names were Kyle and Marisa. More important, though, was the fact that the children were now comfortable enough around Blair to talk to him.
Or so Jim hoped.
Blair pulled the desk up a little closer to the children and looked each one straight in the eye. Calmly, he asked, "your teacher told me that you saw who it was that took Alexa. Is that true?"
The three children immediately recoiled. Blair soothed them, "whoa, whoa, it's okay! You're not in trouble or anything. Actually, we need your help to find the bad man who took Alexa so we can bring her back to her Mom and Dad. You know they're very worried about her."
Marisa blurted out in response, "but if we say anything, the bad man said he'll kill Alexa and come back and take us too!"
[Now where have I heard that before?] thought Jim. It was a standard tactic that criminals and child abusers used to intimidate kids into keeping quiet. Only when the kids knew they had something bigger than the bad man would they open up. He hoped that he would fit the bill as he knelt down far enough to look Marisa in the eye. "No one's going to hurt you while I'm around Marisa." As he look straight into the eyes of both the younger boys he added, "any of you."
Marisa looked into the eyes of the really BIG police officer who just spoke to her and decided instantly that this guy could take on any bad man who got in his way. Maybe she would be safe after all. Shyly, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, she admitted, "Mr. Junction took her."
Jim had heard her perfectly, but knew that, since no one else could have really heard her, he needed to act this part out for the sake of preserving his secret. Besides, he had to confirm what his disbelieving ears were telling him. This creep _knew_ his victims? "What did you say, Marisa?"
Her confidence growing, Marisa spoke louder this time. "Mr. Junction took her."
Blair looked over to the teacher in confusion. "Who's Mr. Junction?"
Eyes wider than Jim could think possible, the teacher replied, "the school's head janitor. They have his address in the school's office. I _knew_ he was too friendly with those kids!"
When she turned her eyes away from the window, she noticed that Blair had took off, and Detective Ellison was already on his cell phone blasting out orders to whatever poor soul had happened to pick up the phone at police headquarters. "I need a squad car sent over to the Cascade Elementary School. Sandburg and I have a lead on a prime suspect...a positive ID from one of the children...we're going over to his place right now to investigate...yes sir, we'll be careful."
Blair walked back into the room at the same time Jim closed the connection on his cell phone call. Without even looking up to see him he asked, "you got it, chief?"
Blair replied, "got it," then returned to his spot near the children to get his bag. In his most soothing voice, he reassured them, "we're going to go get Alexa now, and another police officer is coming here to make sure you're safe, okay?"
The three children didn't like the scenario one bit. They liked Blair; they didn't want Mr. Junction to take him away too. And even if Jim _was_ protecting him... They each started begging Blair not to leave at the same time, and the chaos began to hurt the Sentinel's sensitive ears. Blair caught on quickly, though, and reassured them, "guys, don't worry!" He nodded over to Jim and added, "I've got him to protect me, I'll be fine."
A warm smile broke across Jim's face before he realized it as Kyle asked, "will you come back and let us know you're okay?"
Blair replied, "sure." All three children asked simultaneously, "you promise?" Blair smiled even bigger as he stood, replying with all the confidence in the world, "I promise."
As Monica followed Jim and Blair to the truck, she glanced over at Andrew and prayed that Blair would be able to keep that promise.
*****
Blair's eyes widened in horror as he realized how frighteningly close to the school Robert Junction's house was. The three of them sat in the truck a block away from the tiny one-bedroom house. Considering that this was very likely a man who had murdered six children to this point without showing an ounce of remorse, Jim decided against just going up there, flashing his badge and trying to ask him a few questions, figuring that someone as unstable as this man is might blow his head off. No one argued that point.
Instead, Jim sat staring at the house for a minute, opening up his sight and hearing to try and see if he could get any sort of possible proof that the little girl might be in there. Monica watched Jim as he seemed to be staring into space with great confusion. They were too far away from the house to see anything, but Jim was staring in the direction of the house as intently as if he was looking in the window. Not wanting to disturb the almost eerie amount of quiet in the truck, she tapped Blair on the shoulder and whispered, "what's he doing?"
Blair rolled his eyes a bit in annoyance. He _knew_, without a doubt that when they stopped this far away from Junction's house that Monica was going to start asking questions, but Jim was treating things right now as if their 'observer' barely existed. [He's probably so focused on finding Alexa that what Monica thinks doesn't mean anything to him right now.] That also meant that he was going to have to do some fast talking to keep Monica from finding out their secret. Blair whispered, "Jim's just getting his thoughts together," praying that she would drop the subject, which, even though she knew he was lying, she did.
Both Blair and Monica were startled by Jim hitting his hand on the steering wheel. [There it is!] He detected two heartbeats in the house, one which was faint, but beating very fast. He was fairly sure it was Alexa, but he couldn't tell without some sort of visual confirmation, and he couldn't get that from where they were sitting. A smell tickled the edge of his mind, and he remembered that he had picked up his dry cleaning the night before and forgot to take it out of the truck. The suit he had worn to a deposition a week earlier, clean and pressed, was hanging in the back of the truck. [Now, where could I get changed...]
*****
After a rather uncomfortable quick-change session in a nearby gas station restroom, Blair and Jim walked slowly up to Robert Junction's front door. Jim knocked, mentally going over the story he and Blair had agreed on. He turned to face the door as it opened, and was met by a middle-aged man who was a couple inches taller than he was, but much thinner and not nearly as strong. If it came down to hand-to-hand combat, Jim was confident he could take this man down in a heartbeat. But for now, he had to appear as weak and bookwormish as possible. He even borrowed Blair's reading glasses to complete the look. "Mr. Junction?"
The man stepped forward a bit at the door, as if he were protecting someone or something inside. "Yes, I'm Robert Junction. Can I help you with something?" His tone was gracious enough, but his manner screamed the desire to get the man in front of him away from the house as quickly as possible.
Jim briefly flashed his badge, hoping that Junction wouldn't press him for a more careful inspection. "I'm Jim Ellison with the department of Housing and Urban Development. We have had reports of a water main leak in the area that may have saturated the ground near your residence. I need to inspect your basement to see if there is any evidence of cracks, settling, et cetera. Now if you'll excuse me..." Even he didn't have a clue as to what he was saying, he was just hoping that it would confuse Junction enough that he's be able to get past the man into the house.
No luck. Junction used every inch of his height to block the door, replying, "I haven't had a problem with my basement, and I haven't heard anything about a water main break. I'm not going to let you in here until you give me some concrete proof of what you're saying.
[Showtime,] thought Blair. They anticipated this reaction, and decided to let Blair distract him, if necessary, in order to get Jim into the house. "Mr. Junction? I'm Blair Sandburg, from the Rainier University Geology department. If you'll just come out here with me for a moment, I'll be happy to show you exactly what the problem is, and why it poses such a grave danger to you and your family."
The ploy worked better than they had hoped. Junction stepped out of the house, not bothering to lock the door behind him as Blair let him down the steps and around the corner to the side of the house. This allowed Jim the time he needed to get into the house. He opened up his hearing again, and was immediately rewarded with a fix on the child's heartbeat -- located in the basement.
He found his way downstairs easily enough, and called out to the child he knew was there. "Alexa?"
The little girl he found in a tiny dark corner of the basement screamed her reply, "help me! Help me! Please help me!"
[Please don't let Junction have heard that,] thought Jim. He quickly ran over to the girl and shushed her. "Alexa?" The girl, whose mouth he now covered with his hand, nodded enthusiastically. He continued, "My name's Jim. I'm a police officer, and I've come to get you out of here. But to do that, I need you to do everything I tell you to do, all right?" The girl nodded enthusiastically again.
Jim directed her, "all right then, Alexa, when I take my hand off your mouth you have to promise me that you won't scream again, okay? You promise?" Alexa nodded her head in response. Jim reassured her, "good." He took his hand off her mouth, and to his surprise, she kept quiet. He then directed her, "okay, I'm going to carry you outside. When we get to the door, you'll see a blue truck. A very nice lady named Monica is sitting in that truck. Now, the minute I tell you to go I want you to run across the street to the truck and scream 'Monica, Monica' as loud as you possibly can. She'll let you in the truck and keep you safe until I can take you home, okay? You think you can do that?" Alexa nodded enthusiastically, and practically jumped into Jim's arms.
Jim crept up the stairs, carrying Alexa protectively, but carefully, like she might break if he dropped her. The scared little girl rested her head on Jim's chest, and the warmth of her touch kept him from zoning out as he tried to reach out with his senses to check on the situation outside. He heard silence from the two men who were just on the other side of the side wall, and it was not a welcome sound. He hurried out, hoping against hope that Junction bought whatever lie Blair was feeding him, and that they were simply, silently inspecting the side of the house.
He made it as far as the front door when he saw Blair on the wooden swing on the front porch. Robert Junction was right beside him, casually pointing a .38 into the side of the young anthropologist. [Nope, he heard her.] He wondered briefly if there was any way out of this situation without somebody getting hurt. [Let's see, we're dealing with a homicidal maniac who's already killed six little girls and was about to go to work on a seventh before we came along. Not only that, but said homicidal maniac has a gun in Blair's side. Nope, can't say we're all going to get out of here in one piece.] A flood of guilt and anger washed over Jim as he saw the paralyzing fear in Blair's eyes. His goal switched from getting Alexa out to minimizing the injuries to Blair and/or Alexa. If anyone was going to get hurt by this nutcase, Jim hoped, it would be him.
Robert smiled up at Jim, "well, well, now look what we have here? Isn't this fun, Alexa, we have guests!"
Jim tried to keep his voice as calm and level as possible while Alexa cowered behind him. "It's over, Junction. Just give me the gun."
Robert laughed, "oh no no no, Detective, I couldn't possibly do that! See, in order for me to live past the next couple of months, I need to kill seven fair young maids in seven days. Alexa is the last girl. Once I kill her, I'll be able to live another hundred years in peace, and you'll never hear from me again."
[This guy really is nuts,] thought Jim.
Before he could say anything else, though, Alexa spotted the truck, and apparently decided she had had enough. Remembering Jim's instructions, she darted out from behind him, screaming, "Monica! Monica!" as loud as she possibly could.
Seeing his treasure get away, Robert pulled the trigger, sending Blair crashing to the floor in a pool of his own blood, then fired at the girl. In his blind rage, though, he missed, and Alexa successfully reached the truck's open door and Monica's waiting arms.
The damage, however, had already been done.
Jim watched the whole scene come crashing down on him in slow motion. First Alexa started running, then he heard the close range shot that took out Blair as clearly as if he had been on a firing range. When Robert raised his gun to fire on the truck again, Jim pushed the man's hands in the air, sending the shot into the porch's ceiling instead of across the street, then knocked him unconscious with one shot. He quickly handcuffed the man, then ran straight to the unconscious form of his wounded partner.
He could tell immediately that Blair had taken a shot to the stomach. At the range that Junction fired... he pushed those thoughts out of his mind as he reached for his cellular phone. "This is Jim Ellison. An officer is down near the Cascade Elementary School." As he gave the exact address he added, "he's been shot in the stomach and is losing blood fast. Hurry, please!"
As he closed the connection on the phone he increased the pressure he was already applying to the wound in Blair side and cried out, "come on, chief, don't you die on me! I need you man, don't you die on me now!"
The faint wail of the ambulance's sirens in the distance could not come fast enough.
*****
If struggle has a purpose on the narrow road you've carved, why do I dread my trespasses will leave a deadly scar?
*****
There was no way he could ever get used to this. Waiting in hospital waiting rooms, wondering what was going on with his partner, whether he was going to live or die. He tried to extend his hearing to the room, just a few doors down, where they were working on Blair, but it was hopeless. It was all he could do to keep the cacophony of sounds in the Emergency Room area from driving him mad.
He needed his Guide.
And the thought that he might be just about to lose him for good scared him to death.
Guilt flooded his emotional control for the fifth time that hour. Why did he let Blair talk him into thinking that this was a good idea? Why didn't he call for backup? Why did he leave Blair alone with that maniac? Blair was an academic. If he was really, really unlucky, the worst thing that should have happened to him would be that he might end up getting mugged, maybe end up in a barfight. Blair walked into Jim's world totally unprepared, and instead of backing down, dove in head first. It had gotten to the point that the vast majority of people in major crimes had long ago stopped thinking of Blair as some weird long-haired freak and simply thought of him as Jim's partner--not like any of them would ever admit it to Blair.
Blair was his responsibility, though. As his friend, and as a police observer. Blair had even referred to him once as his "Blessed Protector". If Blair got hurt, the blame should fall on Jim, not Blair. [And that,] thought Jim, [is the way it should be.]
Monica watched Jim pace the length of the waiting room repeatedly, not knowing what to say to him. He seemed so wrapped up in his grief and guilt that the only thing that could snap him out of it would be a miracle with his partner. So she silently prayed for one. As she prayed, she remembered the 'role' that had been created for her to play in this assignment. Maybe talking to him about his partnership with Blair would get him to open up. She looked up at Jim, only to see him stopped in the middle of the room, not moving. Confused, she nudged him gently on the arm, which seemed to shake him out of whatever reverie he was in. Even as she looked him straight in the eye, he seemed to be a million miles away. She asked him, "how're you holding up, Jim?"
He tried to come up with words to express how he was feeling, but nothing came out. No words existed that could adequately describe the hole left in your heart when you feel you've let someone down.
At that moment, one of the nurses came into the waiting room, ending their conversation. He came directly to Jim and asked, "Detective Ellison?"
Jim and Monica turned to face the doctor, and Jim replied, "yes, I'm Detective Ellison. You have news about Blair?"
The nurse shifted uncomfortably, which seized Jim's heart with panic. Blair couldn't be dead -- somehow, he knew that if that were the case, he would know. So what's wrong? He continued to prod the doctor, "Doc? What's going on?"
The nurse looked straight into Jim's eyes, deciding that no matter how uncomfortable it was, she should just come out with it. "Detective, I'll give you the straight facts. Mr. Sandburg sustained numerous internal injuries as a result of the gunshot wound. He's still in surgery, but he's lost a lot of blood, and we're short on blood of his type. I pulled your medical records, and I was wondering..."
Jim understood immediately. He and Blair were the same blood type. "Lead the way. Monica, if you'd stay here and wait for Simon I'd appreciate it." Monica nodded her acknowledgment, and Jim followed the nurse to one of the few empty Emergency Room beds.
Shortly after Jim left, Simon hurried into the waiting room. Confused by Jim's absence, he started to look around and was about to ask for him at the information desk when Monica stopped him. Recognizing the observer from this morning. [God, was it only this morning?], he asked in a rush, "Monica, where's Jim? Have they given us any word on Blair yet?" He had gone through this far too many times with these two, and each time he prayed that it would be his last.
Monica tried to soothe the worried police captain. "Jim's in the Emergency Room giving blood. Blair sustained a lot of internal injuries and lost a lot of blood, which is why they asked Jim to donate. He's in surgery right now."
Simon sat in one of the incredibly uncomfortable hard-backed waiting room chairs and sighed, leaning his head against one of the pristine white walls. Monica saw the pained expression on the man's face and asked, "do they go through this a lot?"
Simon closed his eyes against the bright lights of the room to try and prevent the headache he could already feel building. He answered Monica, "far too often, Ms. Smith. Far too often."
*****
Do they see the fear in my eyes?
Are they so revealing?
This time I can not disguise
all the doubt I'm feeling.
What if I stumble?
What if I fall?
What if I lose my step
and I make fools of us all?
Will the love continue
when the walk becomes a crawl?
What if I stumble?
And what if I fall?
*****
Jim stared at his normally hyperactive partner in quiet disbelief. He had barely made it through the surgery that repaired the frightening amount of damage Junction's bullet caused, and was almost immediately put on the critical list and placed in a private room in the ICU. Having tried to no avail to contact Naomi, Jim was allowed free access to Blair's room. Everyone in the hospital at this point simply considered Jim and Blair brothers -- the only family each man truly had sometimes.
The doctor's words echoed in Jim's mind, the same words he had heard just after Blair had almost overdosed on Golden: "the next twenty-four hours will be crucial." He never wanted to hear those words again in a sentence referring to Blair, but as long as they remained partners, the possibility still existed.
That left him with only one option.
So why did he feel like making this decision was like tearing out a part of his soul?
He heard Monica's voice behind him, trying to give him hope. "He's going to be just fine, Jim." Knowing that Andrew was nowhere near the room allowed her to state that in absolute confidence.
Never taking his eyes off Blair, Jim blurted out cynically, "sure, this time."
Monica's heart filled with compassion for the men in front of her. They have been through so much.
After a few silent moments, Jim declared, "I can't do it. I can't let him go through this again."
Monica asked him, "how did you two become partners?"
Jim smiled for a brief moment as he looked at the man who had become so much a part of his life. His mind flashed back to throwing Sandburg up against the wall of his office. They were an unlikely match, weren't they? "I went to Sandburg for help with a case that I was working on a couple of years ago. We've worked together ever since."
"What was your life like before you met him?"
Jim laughed as he tried to remember what his life was like before he met Blair. Before the Switchman case. Before his senses re-emerged. He almost couldn't do it. There was one part of that life, though, he would never forget. "Empty. Everything I did, I did alone. I even refused to work with a partner until Blair came along."
"But you had been married at one point?"
"Might as well have stayed single. I loved Carolyn, sure, but I never took the time to know her. To let her get to know me. We didn't stay married for very long."
"So what brought you and Blair so close?"
[The fact that I had no one else to turn to? That he understood me when anyone else would think I was nuts?] He couldn't really point to any one thing, really. He just knew that no matter what happened, whether he wanted it or not, Blair would always be there for him. "Blair saved my life the second day I knew him. A week later he helped save half of police headquarters from a gang of terrorists. He's gone up against serial killers, gangsters..." His voice trailed off as he realized how much Blair had done, all for the sake of helping him with his Sentinel abilities so he could get his doctorate. Sarcastically, he added, "guess his life so far has given a whole new meaning to publish or perish."
"You're the main subject of his thesis, aren't you? That's why he works with you. To help you with your senses."
[How in the world did she know--] Jim turned around to question the observer when his jaw dropped open in wide-mouthed astonishment. Monica seemed to glow, a gentle light shining around her that was golden enough in color that it could not have possibly come from any of the sterile harsh lights of the hospital. Jim was convinced that his senses had wigged out on him again, a by-product of his decision to break his relationship with his Guide.
Sensing his confusion at the sight, Monica decided to finally get down to business. "Jim, I am an angel who has been sent by God to help you through this difficult time."
Before he could decide whether or not he believed her, he was hit by a powerful flashback. Peru. The smell of the charred wreck of the chopper. The bodies of the men in his unit everywhere. Through the haze of the wreckage, three glowing figures talking about him. One of them had dark hair and spoke in a gentle Irish accent. "You were there, weren't you?"
Monica nodded. "You were given a new life when you crashed in Peru. God entrusted you with powerful gifts. With those gifts came responsibilities--responsibilities that you ran away from once you came home. You wanted to handle everything on your own, which you were never meant to do. So, when you were ready to accept help, God sent Blair to you."
As Jim's gaze returned to his unconscious partner, Monica continued, "Blair chose to be your Guide the minute he pushed you out of the way of that garbage truck, regardless of the consequences to himself."
Jim recalled how he had the choice to give up his Sentinel abilities in Peru. He knew then that it meant he would be tied to his Guide forever, reliant on him for control, direction and strength. He thought it unfair that Blair hadn't had a choice in that decision.
Now, though, he realized Blair didn't need that choice. His decision had already been made.
Monica walked over to the other side of the bed and touched Blair's other hand. She chose her parting words carefully. "Jim, Blair knows the risks he takes every day he works with you on the job. He accepts those risks because in his own way, he needs you as much as you need him. Don't let your fear for his safety cause you to make a decision that was never yours to make."
Jim looked up from his Guide's bedside to discover that Monica had vanished. Her words, though, echoed in his mind and in his heart:
"...he needs you as much as you need him..."
*****
Everyone's got to crawl when you know that
you're up against a wall
it's about to fall
Everyone's got to crawl when you know that
*****
Blair woke up with a roaring pain in his side. Even with his blurry vision, he tried to look around. [Where am I?] He tried to recall the events of his day. He went to his office, graded a couple of papers, then he had the disastrous meeting with the dissertation committee. Jim picked him up to get his help on the case of that missing girl--
Oh man! Now he realized why he was in the hospital. That creep Junction shot him before trying to take out the little girl. He hoped Jim and the little girl got out of there all right.
As his vision got a little clearer, he realized he was in Intensive Care. [Man, must've been rough going for a while there. Wonder how long I was out?] He tried to scan around the room, get some indication of what day it was, or what time it was, but nothing stood out, except for the woman who was standing at the foot of his bed. "Dr. Martinson?"
Tess smiled peacefully at her young charge. "Not exactly, baby."
[Baby? No one's called me 'Baby' like that since...] Recognition dawned on him as he realized who Dr. Martinson really was. Memories of the angel who had appeared to an eight-year old Blair in the form of a wise old Blues singer flooded his mind. If he had had the energy to get out of bed, he would have run to her and given her a tremendous bear hug. As it was, she would have to settle for the expression of pure surprise and joy on his face. "Tess?"
Tess' smile broadened to almost goofy-looking proportions. "Yes, baby, it's me."
His brow wrinkled in confusion. "What are you doing here, Tess?"
As she remembered the man she saw before him as the eight-year-old mop top little boy he once was, Tess immediately switched into what she jokingly referred to as her 'mothering mode'. "Blair, I'm here to make sure that that sometimes far-too-naïve enthusiasm of yours doesn't get you and that Sentinel of yours into a mess that even God himself couldn't get you out of."
Blair now understood why she first showed up in Cascade as Dr. Martinson. "So all this is about my dissertation?" Tess nodded. Still confused, Blair replied, "I don't get it."
Tess asked, "Blair, what would happen if you published your dissertation with detailed information about Jim and his abilities, they way you wanted to when you and Jim first met?"
"Easy. Every lunatic in the Pacific Northwest would want a crack at trying to outsmart Supercop. His life would probably be in constant danger."
"Uh huh. And if his life would be in constant danger..."
"So would mine. But what about publishing the thesis and not using Jim's name?"
"You think your theories would be believed?"
Blair recalled the reaction of the people in the meeting room. As his head slumped back against the pillow again he replied, "no, probably not."
Tess looked at the man before her, eyes filled with compassion. "Blair, is the paper the only reason why you continue to work with Jim? Why you continue to put your life on the line as his partner?"
Blair shrugged slightly. That question was easy -- he had answered it a long time ago. "No, of course not. It's gone way beyond that."
"Right. So if you published your dissertation tonight, would you still want to work with Jim?"
"For as long as he'd let me."
"But you can't publish your dissertation on Sentinels using Jim as your focus subject. You said so yourself."
Blair sighed and let his head fall back against the pillow again. Angel or not, he was getting really frustrated with Tess. "So what's your point?"
"My point, Blair, is that you _do_ have other options. The solution is staring you right in the face, baby. You just need to open your eyes and see it."
Tess continued, "and as for that partner of yours...it might do him a lot of good if you told him the same things you just told me."
Blair rolled his eyes for a minute, then turned to face Tess...who had vanished.
*****
I hear you whispering my name
you say
my love for you will never change
What if I stumble?
What if I fall?
What if I lose my step
and I make fools of us all?
Will the love continue
when the walk becomes a crawl?
What if I stumble?
And what if I fall
*****
Jim opened his eyes the minute his partner first opened his mouth to speak. [He's awake! Thank God.] Relief washed over him, then confusion as he tuned in to hear what Blair was saying and realized that he was having a very one-sided conversation. [Is he delirious or something?] He hadn't detected any sign of Blair running a fever. Worried that the wound in Blair's side might be starting to become infected, Jim dressed quickly and started to try and slip quietly into Blair's room.
But, the door wouldn't budge. He pushed again, and it was equally immobile. [What's going on?] Then, he noticed the traces of that same soft glow under the door. Opening his hearing to follow, he heard the second voice in the room, and decided it would be best to wait until the conversation was finished. After all, he had read the stories in Sunday School about what angels could do to destroy people, so it was probably best not to interrupt one. Or for that matter, eavesdrop. He put his hand on the door and turned down his hearing. When he stopped seeing the glow, he cautiously opened the door.
He found Blair wide awake, staring at him as if he were some dream he were having and not someone real. He could barely speak, what little voice he had when he regained consciousness drained from the conversation with Tess. Still, he tried. "Jim?"
In his most soothing quiet voice Jim replied, "hey chief. Just like you to wake up in the middle of the night, huh?" His heart was soaring at the prospect that Blair just might get out of this okay.
There were concerns on Blair's heart, though. "The girl?"
"Alexa's fine. The minute he tried to aim at her I knocked the gun out of his hand. Simon took her to her parents shortly after you and I came here."
[Good,] he sighed. One more thing, though. "How long?"
Jim replied, "oh, you've only been out for about 12 hours or so, chief. The doctors thought you might take longer to come out of it, but I know you. Even a bullet couldn't get you to sleep for very long."
Blair smiled at that. True, Jim did know him well. "Jim--"
Jim could hear the strain in Blair's voice and didn't like it. "Shhhh. You just get your rest. Whatever it is, we can talk about it in the morning."
As Jim turned to leave, Blair reached up and grabbed his wrist to stop him. He could barely whisper two simple words: "Thank you." His eyes, however, spoke volumes. Thank you for letting me do something that really makes a difference, not just for you but for the people you help every day on your job. Thank you for running interference for me with Simon. Thank you for agreeing to all those tests. Thank you for trusting me even when you know sometimes the only thing I can do is make it up as I go along. Thank you for trusting me to take risks even when it puts one of us in danger. Thank you for trusting that I will always do the right thing by you.
Thank you for being my friend.
And Jim didn't need to hear all those sentiments spoken aloud to know that they were echoed in his mind, in his heart, and (hopefully) in his eyes. He simply replied, "thank you," squeezed Blair's hand, and left, giving Blair the chance to be alone with his thoughts. The rest of the night, Tess' words echoed in the back of his mind...
"...The solution is staring you right in the face, baby. You just need to open your eyes and see it."
*****
What if I stumble
What if I fall
You never turn in the heat of it all
What if I stumble
What if I fall
*****
Blair sighed loudly as he looked out the window at the dreary, overcast day. It mirrored how he felt.
Two weeks earlier, the doctors had been shaking their heads in amazement even as they were signing his release papers. When they had finished the surgery, they expected him to be unconscious for days, in ICU for weeks, and to be released from the hospital after maybe a month. He absentmindedly rubbed the bandages on his sore left side as he remembered how they told him that they had to remove part of his large intestine and sew up damage to his stomach, liver and spleen. And then he smiled as he remembered how, four days later, the X-rays were showing enough improvement that, as long as he stayed home and rested for a month, he was considered well enough to go home. There was no question, in his mind, who was responsible for that little gift. In a silent prayer he whispered, "Tess, wherever you are, thank you."
The doorbell rang, as it had been doing practically once every couple of hours since Blair had been released from the hospital. To Blair, it seemed like Simon had sent every one from Major Crimes over, one at a time, to check on him. He smiled, though, as he realized that most of them were taking whatever time they could find to come by, see how he was doing and wish him well. Many of them had even told him of the creative excuses they had made to find a way out of the bullpen without letting Simon know where they were going. In truth, Simon himself had come by four or five times to check on Blair. The guys in the bullpen, according to him, thought he was out trying to improve his golf game.
He slowly made his way over to the door, and opened it to find Joel Taggart standing there with a unbelievably huge pot of what smelled like ostrich chili. (As an apology for running out on him during the Sam Holland case, Blair had given him the recipe.) Joel cheerfully greeted him, "hi Blair! Can I come in?"
Blair ushered him in without a word as Joel continued on, "I know you usually do most of the cooking around the house, but since you shouldn't be moving around too much I figured you could freeze some of this and get quite a few meals out of it for a while."
Blair smiled at the thoughtfulness of the gesture, and chuckled a bit as he wondered, [if Joel made this much chili for me & Jim, how much did he make for _himself_?]
Almost as if he had read Blair's mind, Joel asked sheepishly, "actually, I was so busy making this batch for you guys I didn't get a chance to make any extras for myself, so do you mind--?"
Blair chuckled a bit more and got two bowls out of the cupboard, one for himself and one for his burly companion.
Joel smiled. "Thanks, Blair." He ladled out two heaping bowls of chili and stuck them in the microwave, then noticed that the kid was not his usual overtalkative self. "How're you doing?"
Blair shrugged. "Physically, I'm doing a lot better than they expected. As far as the doctors are concerned, I should still be in the hospital. As it is, I'll probably be back up to full speed by the end of the month."
Joel looked at him curiously. "That's great Blair! So what's eating you?"
Blair tried to dodge the issue. "What do you mean, Joel?"
Joel wouldn't buy it. Something was bothering the kid, and it looks like it was something he hadn't talked about to anyone. He might have talked to Jim, considering how close the two of them were, but something told him that the way Blair looked was partially because he _hadn't_ talked to Jim about it. "Don't give me that, Blair. It's written all over your face. Something going on between you and the big guy?"
Blair shook his head. "No, it's noting like that. Just school stuff, that's all." Truth be told, his dissertation, the review board meeting, and his conversation with Tess were all he could think about. Tess had said the solution was staring him right in the face. He knew he needed to do something, find some sort of research that could keep him in Cascade near Jim, but allow him to continue to work toward his Ph.D. However, short of researching coffee house counterculture, he was coming up blank. And he had six weeks to think of something and come up with a coherent outline to back it up. It was driving him crazy.
Joel commented, "oh, that makes sense. I swear Blair, sometimes I don't know how you keep up your studies the way you do. You're at the station so much with Jim I think people have forgotten you're not a real cop, and that you have a whole other life outside of the police work."
The idea struck Blair so fast it almost felt like a physical blow. Tess' words echoed in his head again: "...the solution is staring you in the face, baby..." His eyes widened in surprise as he asked Joel, "what did you just say?"
Forcefully swallowing a mouthful of chili so he could speak, Joel replied, "that you have a whole other life outside of the police work?"
Blair shook his head. "No, no, no. The part before that."
"That the guys at the station have forgotten you're not a real cop? It's totally true, Blair. Look at the number of people who have sneaked out to visit you in the past two weeks. To them, you're just another one of the guys, same as me, or Brown, or Jim."
[That's it!] Tess was right! He not only had the answer staring him in the face all along, he even had the research to back it up in his personal journals. Now all he needed to do... he got up from the table and ran straight for the phone before Joel even had a chance to catch the sparkle of opportunity in his eyes.
Joel had just started to ask, "Blair? What's going on?" at the same time Blair was able to get through to the captain. He put a finger up, motioning for Joel to wait as he spoke into the phone, "hello, Simon? It's Blair.... Listen, are you busy today?...Great, I need to see you about something." He laughed as he continued, "yeah, it's pretty important....Joel's here, he can drive me over to the station...great! I'll see you in a few. Bye." He hung up the phone and ran to clean up a little from lunch and grab his and Joel's coats.
Joel asked again, "Blair? What's this about?"
Blair smiled as he replied, "Joel, it's _way_ too long and complicated for me to explain. Just suffice it to say that you've just help me solve my school problems. You are such a genius, man! Thank you!"
Confused, Joel replied, "I am?" as he closed the door to the loft behind him.
*****
[What is so important that that kid is sprinting out of the house, even while he's recovering from being shot at point-blank range, to run right down here to meet with me?] Simon massaged his temples to relieve the headache as he considered the possibilities. Most of them he dismissed out of hand, though. The kid simply sounded too excited for him to want to, say, run interference because he published his dissertation using Jim's name and the big man was about to kill him.
So what was the big deal?
Just then, Blair rushed into his office, more excited than he'd ever seen him. Before he even had a chance to speak, Blair blurted out, "Simon, I think I found a way to get my Ph.D. and protect Jim at the same time."
Simon leaned back and replied, "this has nothing to do with that thin blue line garbage line you tried to feed me two years ago, does it?" As Blair shook his head, the captain settled in to hear Blair's idea.
*****
Unseen by the two men, Tess, Monica and Andrew, dressed in white, stood at the back of Simon's office. Monica was the first to comment on the assignment they had just completed successfully. "Well, it seems the two men have now settled into their new lives pretty well, Tess."
Tess smiled in agreement. "That they have, Monica. That they have."
Andrew commented, "you think their old lives will ever come back to haunt them?"
Tess replied, "they might. But, they realize now that they have each other, neither one is going anywhere anytime soon, and whatever happens, they can handle it together."
A white dove followed the trio as they walked out of Simon's office, leaving the two men to a conversation that will once again, change their lives.
-end-