Sentinel Fan Fiction Page || Fanfic -- Missing Scenes Collection

Burton Awards Nominee 2005

Summary: Epilogue. Moments of revelation in the wake of the announcement of Jim's abilities. Spoilers for The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg; brief mentions of various other older episodes.

Ripples
missing scenes and epilogue for The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg
by Becky
May 1999

In his office above the racing stadium, Steven stared at the TV in shock. Lunch sat ignored on his desk in front of him. The reporter's voice continued, droning on before finishing the segment and segueing to the next feature of the noon news. Though what could possibly outdo what he'd just heard...

Swiveling away from the TV to look out the windows of his office, Steven could only blink a few times, trying to wrap his mind around the sudden knowledge.

A Sentinel. Jim...my brother...my god. That's how he knew about the stadium two years ago. And when we were kids...how he always knew things. Memories of his brother floated through his mind -- times when the two of them still got along. Times when the young Jimmy had been so protective of his little brother. Times when I felt so very proud to have him as my older brother.

<<RING!>>

He jumped, startled by the sudden loud jangle of the phone. He snatched it up in the midst of its second ring.

"Hello. This is Steven Ellison."

A smooth voice responded to him. "Mr. Ellison. I'm from the Cascade Herald. I was wondering what you could tell me about your brother."

"W-what?" he stammered, caught off-guard.

"What was it like growing up with someone who could hear and see beyond normal? Was he always like this?"

"I--"

"Did he use his abilities against you?"

"Against me? Wait a minute--!" No! Never against me.

"What did it feel like to grow up with a freak?"

A what!?! Steven jerked to his feet, his hand clenched around the receiver, a sudden anger filling him. "My brother is not a freak. He's a good man, a police officer doing his job the best way he knows how. And I suggest you let him." He slammed the phone down in the cradle, cutting the reporter off in mid-word.

<<RING!>>

He stared at the phone a moment, then snatched it up.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Ellison? I'm from the Washington Tribune. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time to ask you about your broth--"

He dropped the receiver back into the cradle and rubbed a hand over his face before walking over to the windows to stare out in the afternoon sun. Again, the phone rang behind him, but he ignored it, keeping his hands folded behind his back.

"So big brother's a Sentinel. A man with heightened senses. Special."

Steven stood still a moment longer, then nodded sharply to himself before whirling back to his desk. He picked up the phone in mid-ring. "Is this a reporter?"

A pause, then a stammered "yes" came across the line.

Steven went on, "Jim is a good man. And before you ask, no, he's not a freak. And you can quote me." He hung up and redialed Jim's cell phone number. He got a message saying the phone was out of service. Probably turned it off to avoid reporters. Can't say I blame him. After a moment's pause, he dialed Major Crimes at the PD, waiting a few moments for the call to go through. Finally, someone picked up and a female voice came over the line.

"Cascade PD. Major Crimes Division."

"Is Detective Ellison available?" A hesitant pause. He could hear more phones and voices in the background. He cleared his throat to continue over the silence. "Sorry. This isn't a reporter. This is his brother. Steven. I wanted to speak with him a moment."

"I'm sorry, sir. Detective Ellison is...unavailable."

"Oh." He paused a moment, uncertain what to do, then said, "Could you just tell him...tell him I called. That I'd like to talk to him when he has time. He has my number."

"I can do that, sir."

"Thank you." He hung up and sat back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. Now all he could do was wait for Jim to call. And pray that he did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

William Ellison looked up from his newspaper when the phone rang. Before he could shift to stand up to get it, Sally appeared around the corner and answered it.

"Ellison residence...Yes, this is...Just--just a moment..."

William straightened and laid the paper aside, standing up as he watched Sally frown. "Who is it?" He walked over to her, taking the receiver from her hand.

"A reporter. He said he wants to talk to you about Jimmy."

"Jimmy?" William's eyes widened, and he held the receiver up to his ear. Sally stayed next to him, obviously concerned. "This is William Ellison. How can I help you?"

"Mr. Ellison. Thank you for talking to me. I'm from the Channel 2 newsroom and I wanted to know if you could give us a few minutes of your time to talk about your son, Jim."

Wary at the subdued excitement he could hear in the reporter's voice, William asked, "Why don't you talk to him? I--"

"We have, sir. But we'd also like to talk to his family."

William shook his head, preparing to hang up. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Jim--"

"You must've missed the noon broadcast, sir -- we already know about your son's abilities."

His abilities? What broadcast? Jimmy was on the news?

"We know that he's a Sentinel. You don't have to keep it a secret any longer."

A...Sentinel? Is that what he's called?

"We're more interested in his childhood. Did he always have these abilities?"

"I don't--" his voice failed him, cracking. Sally touched his arm, hearing the sudden pain in his voice. William swallowed hard, trying to find the words he needed, stunned to hear that his son's secret had been revealed.

"If he did always have them, when did you first notice your son was different from other children? Did anyone ever call him a freak?"

Freak. The word echoed in his ears. Freak. He could hear his own voice calling Jim that when he was so young, so impressionable, so in need of support. And instead I ridiculed him and told him was too different, that he wasn't normal, that he couldn't be who he was. And he could hear his grown's son voice from only last year. "It's a gift -- it's just who I am."

Straightening and holding the phone a bit tighter, William interrupted the reporter's flow of intrusive, questioning words, forcing his voice to remain steady. "My son is not a freak, sir. And never will be. I suggest your remember that before I sue you for slander. Goodbye." He hung up quickly.

The phone immediately rang again but William stayed Sally's hand. "No, let the answering machine get it."

Sally asked in a low fearful voice, "What's happening? Why did they want to know about Jimmy?"

William leaned one shoulder against the wall, listening to the phone ring incessantly and impatiently at him. He dragged one hand over his eyes. Oh, Jimmy. I'm so sorry. I always worried this might happen. "It's ... complicated." He pushed away from the wall. "The reporter mentioned a newscast. I want to see if I can catch a rerun of it. To see how much damage they've done."

Sally hesitated a moment. "Damage? To who?"

William paused in the act of turning away. A few years ago, before the reconciliation with his son, he would've answered 'to himself', but now...now that he and Jim had finally started talking again and building some sort of relationship...

"To Jimmy. To my son."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, Carolyn, you gotta come see this. It's about your ex."

Carolyn looked up from her slides on the counter for a moment to glance toward the small breakroom at one side of the large lab, then shook her head. "What's Jim up to now? Must be some pretty important case to rate coverage in San Francisco."

Her assistant peeked her head in the room, eyes wide. "Case nothing. They're talking about him being some superman or something." She popped back into the breakroom, blonde ponytail whipping against the doorframe behind her.

Curiosity peaked, Carolyn slid off the high stool and strode across the lab to the breakroom, stepping inside to see a local reporter showing bits and pieces of a Cascade feed about 'the cop with superpowers'. She listened in numb shock as the reporter spoke of heightened senses and abilities.

Puzzle pieces that had been missing for the last several years fell into place. Memories of cases she'd worked on with Jim flitted through her mind -- most notably Brackett and Lash. The reporter mentioned an anthropology student. Blair Sandburg. The Switchman case. That's when this all started. Sandburg was ... helping him ... helping him figure out how to use his senses. How to be a...Sentinel.

Carolyn turned and strode out of the breakroom, heading to her office at the other end of the lab. She ignored her assistant as she called after her and closed her office door, leaning against it for a moment. "A Sentinel. Why didn't you tell me, Jimmy? You could've trusted me." Closing her eyes, she took a breath, steadying herself, shoving away old bitterness. Re-opening her eyes, she walked around her desk and settled in the chair, pulling over her phone as she did.

She paused a moment, hand on the receiver. Even though she and Jim had kept in fairly regular touch since she'd moved to San Francisco, she really hadn't heard from him in the past month or so. Word had trickled down to her about his partner's drowning and near-death and she'd called him soon after that, but that had been right after he'd returned from Mexico hunting down the woman responsible. He'd been tired and sounded a little distracted, so the call had been short. They hadn't talked since.

Will he even want to talk to me?

Pulling her hand away, she sat back in her chair, rocking it backwards, hearing the leather creak. She'd wait a little bit. Let the media circus calm down first. Then she could call. Ask him how he was.

Remind him she still cared -- even if they weren't married anymore -- that had never changed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

From behind the kitchen counter, Naomi watched Blair where he sat in front of the balcony windows, the hard copy of his dissertation resting in his lap. Backlit by the bright afternoon light streaming in, Blair seemed even more solitary than he had a few hours earlier when Jim had still been there. But Jim could hardly even look at Blair. So much pain between them.

After Jim had left for the PD office, Blair had followed him only minutes later, saying that he had a decision to make and that he needed to talk to Jim first -- to try to talk to Jim first. But then the shooting had happened, putting his captain and the female officer, Megan, in the hospital, going into surgery. From what little Blair had told her, the bullet had only just missed hitting him as well.

They'd gone to the hospital together, but then Jim had left after Simon and Megan had stabilized, saying he needed to find the shooter -- alone. And Blair had returned to the loft -- alone.

Oh, Blair, I'm so sorry. I only wanted the best for you. I didn't know this would happen. I thought I could trust Sid. She shook her head and shifted her eyes down the cup of tea in her hands. And now look at what's happened. You and Jim...you're falling apart. I feel so...responsible.

Movement caught her attention and she glanced back toward the windows, watching as Blair ran one hand over the top page of his dissertation, then fanned the papers a little. Almost like he's just absorbing it one last time. Like he's saying...goodbye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, bugger, I hurt.

Sleepily trying to shift to another position, Megan groaned as a flare of pain to radiated down her arm, stemming from her shoulder. That was definitely not the way to go.

"Oh, wait, hold up, H, I think she's waking up."

The softly accented voice was soft and semi-familiar. Who?

"Megan?"

Her fuzzy mind tried to match the voice with a face and finally came up with a name. Rafe. Forcing her eyes to open, she blinked a few times, waiting for the picture to clear in front her. Finally Rafe's face came into view from where he was seated next to the hospital bed. A bandage decorated one side of his forehead. Behind him stood Brown, leaning forward, one hand on Rafe's shoulder.

"Wha--?" Her voice cracked, failing her.

Rafe settled a hand on her arm. "Don't talk. Just try to rest. You and the captain were shot, remember?"

She made an affirmative noise in her throat, only vaguely remembering hearing Jim's panicked voice from Simon's office over her own pain and shock. "Is--?"

Brown spoke up, his low voice soft. "He's fine. You're both fine."

Relieved, she swallowed and her eyes flickered up to the bandage, curious.

Rafe touched his forehead. "And me? Well, let's just say the bullpen's gonna need some major redecorating."

Brown snorted. "No kidding. Zeller came in looking for Bartley and we had a grand old shootout. Big nasty mess."

"Jim and Sandburg took care of him," Rafe added.

Jim and Sandy? Working together?

The detectives must have seen the questions in her eyes and they both nodded. Rafe explained, "Yes, they're back to being partners again. We'd have to be pretty lame excuses for detectives to have missed the bad feelings between those two. But after Sandburg's press conference, I think they must have worked something out, mended fences or something. We were all beginning to wonder there for awhile, though."

"Sandy had a press conference?" She was glad to hear her voice gain a little strength, even if she was whispering.

"Yeah, said his thesis was a fraud. Man, you should've seen Jim's face. Totally shocked. I don't think anyone expected Sandburg to make up such a tale to get his Ph.D." Brown shook his head. "So much for the superman theory."

Megan just stared at them, aware that her mouth had dropped open a little. A fraud? Sandy...denied it all?

Rafe touched her arm again. "Conner? Megan? You okay?"

"I--yes. Just...hard to believe Sandy would do..." She trailed off. Well, maybe not so hard. He did it for Jim. He gave it all up -- out of friendship and partnership -- just to protect Jim. She hadn't known Blair very long, but she knew him well enough to know his academic career was so very important to him. That his dissertation on Sentinels, on Jim, was his life. And his reputation as an academic... To say that everything he worked on for so long was all wrong, all lies... Oh, Sandy. I hope Jim realizes just what you've done for him.

The two detectives glanced at each other, and Brown shrugged. "Yeah, it surprised us all a little too, but really, it's more like fiction anyway. I mean, heightened senses? Sentinels? You had to admit it all sounds a little crazy." He chuckled softly.

Megan looked away, staring across the small hospital room. "Crazy. Yeah."

Silence fell between them for a moment, then Rafe spoke up again. "C'mon, Conner, it's not like Ellison's really a Sentinel." He laughed, shaking his head. "Is he?"

Megan shifted her head back to stare at Rafe and Brown. From somewhere she found the reserves to speak strongly, her voice sharp with reproof and some sadness. "You've known Ellison longer than I have, Detectives. And you should know Sandy pretty good by now. You've watched the two of them work together for over three years. You claim them as friends, gentlemen. What do you think?" She sank back into the bed, feeling drained. Her eyes shuttered and she drifted toward heavy sleep again, leaving the two detectives alone with their thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waking up after being shot was almost as bad as being shot in the first place.

Simon groaned as his mind drew him inexorably toward wakefulness, vague pains and head-full-of-cotton feeling weighing down on him. He could hear beeping in the background and feel various wires and tubing attached to his body. Memories filtered rapidly through his head as he tried to piece together what had happened to bring him to the hospital in such a condition. Abruptly everything came into focus -- and it all boiled down to one word, one name.

Zeller.

Damn. He just hoped Jim was keeping a handle on things at the station. Between Zeller on the loose, Bartley trying to get himself killed, and Jim's sentinel abilities being revealed to the public...not to mention Jim's reaction to that wonderful bit of news...

He shifted on the bed -- or at least he thought he did, since he didn't actually seem to move anywhere. He tried for his eyes instead, forcing them open slowly, peering blearily around the room. A shadow fell across him and his eyes flickered upwards just as the figure spoke.

"Simon? You awake?"

Joel. If Joel was here, Simon hoped that meant Jim was on watch and not on suspension by some substitute captain.

Simon swallowed and croaked out, "Hey, Joel." He coughed a bit, sending a flash of pain through his torso. Not a bright idea.

Joel pulled over a chair and sat down next to the bed. "Not feeling too good, I imagine."

"That would be...a no. What's...going on?"

"Since I doubt you're gonna stay awake long, I'll give you the short version. You and Conner were shot by Zeller. Both of you are gonna be fine. Zeller came after Bartley at the station -- he didn't get him, but Major Crimes is gonna need some repair and we lost a few good men before Jim managed to take Zeller down."

Simon grunted in acknowledgment, a different kind of pain hitting him at the loss of lives, then asked, "What about Jim...and Sandburg?"

Joel frowned. "What about them?"

Flicking his fingers, Simon clarified. "The paper. Media."

"Oh, that." Joel paused a moment, then sighed. "Well...after you were shot, Blair held a press conference. He said the whole thing was a fraud, that Jim wasn't a sentinel, and that it was all just a good piece of fiction created because he wanted to impress his peers and his family."

"He what?!?" Simon jerked forward on the bed, instinctively trying to rise. And promptly started to cough, one arm holding his ribcage. Wrong move.

Joel stood and pressed him back to the bed carefully. "Whoa! Easy there, Simon. You need to think about not moving, okay?"

Simon didn't answer, just squeezed his eyes closed and concentrated on remembering how to breathe past the pain radiating through his torso. A good dose of morphine sounds really good right about now.

A moment later, Joel echoed his thoughts. "I should go find a nurse and get her to check on you, maybe get you something..."

Simon moved a hand, opening his eyes again. "No...wait."

Joel waited, pausing, hands on the bed rail. "What is it, Simon?"

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Simon swallowed, then asked, "Did they...believe him?"

"Yeah, they believed him." Joel shook his head. "Enough that he lost his position at Rainier."

Damn. Simon closed his eyes. I'm sorry, kid.

Joel went on. "He's still got media swarming around him, but more of the National Enquirer type. Jim's already accidentally broken one camera and stepped on more than a few toes putting himself between Blair and those hungry masses. His cane has come in quite handy."

"Good." Simon grunted, then frowned. "Cane?"

"Yeah. He got swiped by one of Zeller's bullets during the chase. Nothing major. He's just supposed to take it easy for a bit. Not that he's really doing that since Jim told me about his 'reconnoitering mission into the dangerous realm of the fridge' yesterday." Joel chuckled softly. "Something about colored tupperware and finding food he didn't know existed and didn't want to know existed."

Simon withheld his own laughter, knowing he really didn't want to moving any of those muscles right then. His eyes drifted closed again as he said, "So, everything's back to...status quo again."

A long pause, then Joel's hand patted his shoulder. "More or less, Simon. More or less."

Sleep reappeared to carry the captain away, and this time he couldn't refuse. As he drifted, he heard one last murmur from Joel.

"Except that now we know. And we'll be damned if we let anything happen to separate the best partnership Major Crimes has ever seen."

I'm with you there, Joel. Just give me a bit of time to figure something out....

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Afterwards, Blair sat at Jim's desk, pondering the detective's badge that lay open on the blotter in front of him. Simon had handed it back to him before disappearing into his office with Jim to see how much damage Zeller had done inside. Naomi had gone back to the loft to pack up her things, departing with a brief hug and a kiss on Blair's cheek. The other detectives had somehow seen he wanted time alone and had left him that way, only occasionally throwing him glances from their own desks.

A cop. Blair tried to wrap his mind around that concept. The academy. Carrying a gun. He shook his head. But to be Jim's permanent partner... To never have to worry about not being good enough backup for him or being told I couldn't ride with him. He chewed on his lip, weighing the pros and cons, debating internally. By no means was he a pacifist, but he just wasn't sure he could be what Jim and Simon and everyone else wanted him to be. Even his mom, which had just totally thrown him, hadn't said anything other than encouragement.

He glanced upwards, letting his eyes skim the clustered desks, letting the soft and sometimes comforting hubbub of the bullpen roll over him. They don't want me to leave. They want me to stay. As a real cop. The realization dazzled him -- again. His eyes shifted to Simon's office where he could see his partner taking down each of the tall jazz figures from the bookshelves for the captain's inspection. Jim looked up and caught his eyes, smiling at him. Blair returned the smile and waggled his fingers in the air before returning his attention back to the badge and everything it represented.

The division between himself and Jim over the inadvertent release of his thesis still hurt a bit. And he had a feeling it probably would for a while. Jim's mistrust and anger just hit him so hard. It was all so unexpected, especially after the whole terrible time with Alex. But then Blair had finally realized that the dissertation was the one thing he and Jim had never truly discussed. Yes, it had been mentioned a time or two, like when Jim asked to read it before it had been published. But never...in depth. The issue had never been resolved and while sometimes it acted as a bridge, other times it acted more like a wall.

Knowing that made Jim's reaction easier to understand, but not any less painful. Jim had apologized several times and had been almost too careful with him lately, like he was paying some kind of penance. Blair muffled a short laugh, remembering Jim going after one very zealously aggressive reporter the day before, poking at him with his cane, shoving him backwards till he fell on his butt on the sidewalk in front of the loft -- landing smack dab in the middle of a large mud puddle. Teaches them to bug a sentinel's guide when said sentinel is already grouchy about not finding any potato chips in the cupboard.

Setting his thoughts about Jim and the past week's stress aside, Blair concentrated on the "now", on the decision that lay before him. He reached out and touched the surface of the shiny badge, running a finger along its edge. Taking a breath, he slid his fingers along the opposite side of the small wallet, then gently closed it, hiding the badge from view.

To be, or not to be...a cop; that is the question...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He may not do it, you know."

Jim's hands stilled a moment as he returned the last jazz figure to its place atop the high bookshelf. Then he nodded and turned a little, sliding over to sit on the edge of the table. "I know." He met Simon's eyes, then glanced over the captain's shoulder to see his partner still at the desk, contemplating his future. "I half-expected him to turn it down as soon as we mentioned it. He's never wanted to carry a gun, much less even considered actually becoming a cop... He's an academic. It's what he's happiest doing."

"Aside of being your partner, you mean," Simon clarified quietly.

Inclining his head, Jim agreed. "Aside of that, yeah." He sighed and stared down at his cane, moving his hand over the handle. "But now--"

"Jim." Simon's quiet voice interrupted him, making him look up and listen. "Blair is still an academic. I don't think that's gonna change no matter what he does now. And he's always gonna be your friend. This last week and how he kept with you every step of the way should've proved that beyond any doubts."

Outside the office, Jim watched Blair close the badge and stare at the wallet. "Yeah, I know. But if he decides not to go to the academy, will he still be my partner?"

Simon swivelled the wheelchair and followed Jim's gaze to see Blair pick up the badge, then stand and make his way to Simon's office.

"I guess we're about to find out at least half the answer to that question right now," Simon commented quietly.

Behind Blair, heads turned and watched his progress, every face alight with barely restrained curiosity and tension.

Moment of truth. Jim pushed himself off the table and stood, distributing his weight between the cane and his good leg. Carefully, he hobbled around the other side of the table, meeting Blair as he entered the office. Simon joined them, stretching out an arm to shove the door partially closed.

Blair stood in front of Jim, badge held out in one hand. He looked up at Jim, mouth opening, then closing. Jim didn't say anything, just waited for Blair to make a decision, to announce his decision. The detective tried to hide his own nerves and hoped the white-knuckled grip he had the cane could be attributed to keeping his balance and not strain.

After another moment, Blair turned to Simon, holding out the badge. "Si--Captain. I appreciate this a lot. I know you must've had to pull some pretty big strings to even get me permission to attend the academy, all things considered and everything." He hesitated, seeing Simon made no move to take the badge. Swallowing, he looked away from Simon's eyes and stared at the floor. "However, I...can't. I'll qualify if I have to on the range...but being a cop, actually carrying a gun all the time, that just isn't me. It's not who I am." A short laugh broke into his voice. "Not that I'm really sure just who I really am these days...but being a cop..." He shook his head. "I can't do that. I'm sorry."

A moment of silence descended on them, then Jim shuffled forward, taking the badge from Blair's outstretched hands and tossing it on the table. "So you won't be one. We'll find another way."

"Huh?" Blair blinked at him.

Jim grasped Blair's shoulder, directing his next words to Simon. "Won't we, Captain?"

Hands folded in his lap, Simon nodded once, a quiet smile on his face. "That we will."

Blair blinked again. "But I thought-- I'm not-- How--?"

"Oh, c'mon, Hairboy, you don't think we're gonna let the brass tell us we can't keep you, do you?"

Jumping a little, Blair turned to see Brown, Rafe, Joel, and Megan, all crowded into the doorway of Simon's office. Megan walked in a bit further, seating herself on the edge of Simon's desk.

"See, Sandy? You're doing what you think is right. Let us take care of the rest."

Blair looked up at Jim, eyes wide, voice lowered to a whisper. "But I'm a fraud! I lied--"

"Sandburg, you lied to protect Jim. To protect your partner." Rafe waved a hand at Jim. "Do you think any of us, in the same position, wouldn't have done the same thing?"

Joel nodded. "And that, Blair, is only one of the reasons we want, no, we need you to stay. Who else is gonna be able to help Jim? You're the expert, aren't you?"

"Expert?" Eyes widening as Rafe's and Joel's words finally began to sink in, Blair's voice cracked weakly as he asked, "On what?"

Joel exchanged looks with Rafe and Brown, unspoken agreements to continue the pretense of not knowing passing between them, then Rafe answered for all of them. "On Ellison, of course. You know, being his partner and all. None of us want him."

Megan hid a chuckle behind her hand and Simon laughed out loud, ignoring the glare Jim threw him both of them. Sighing, Jim muttered, "I take down Zeller and this is the respect I get."

Tension breaking and a comfortable peace flowing in the room again, Blair relaxed. Jim draped his arm over Blair's shoulders and looked down at him. "So, what do you say, Chief, think you can let us cops figure this out on our own? We're a pretty determined bunch when we get our minds set on something."

Blair looked up at Jim, everyone else in the office fading into the background. "You're asking me to stay? Even if I'm not a cop?"

Jim smiled gently at him, squeezing his shoulders. "I'm asking you to stay. It never mattered to me whether or not you were a cop. You're my partner."

Returning the smile, Blair nodded. "Okay. I'll stay." He paused a moment, then added, "Just don't do anything that requires me to dress up as MacGruff the Crime Dog or anything like that. I don't do mascots." He sliced the air with his hand. "A sidekick, yes, but never a mascot."

Laughter rolled out of the office, spilling into the bullpen. Grinning like a fool, Jim pulled Blair forward, wrapping into a huge bear hug, his cane dropping to the floor with a clatter. Between laughs, Jim said, "Don't ever change, buddy."

Blair worked his arms around Jim and squeezed back, supporting some of Jim's weight to keep it off his injured leg. "You got it, Jim."

Minutes later, after smiles and cheers and exchanges of high-fives and back slaps, Simon asked, "So...does this mean I don't get my Blairskin rug?"

- The End -


Author's note: No, I don't know what Simon and Jim and the others will work out to keep Blair. At least not yet. I'm no expert with police legalities and don't really know what Blair should do to remain as Jim's partner. Maybe in a later story...