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Summary:
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by
"So, you want to tell me what that was all about?" Jim Ellison asked quietly as he held the elevator doors open while his best friend and partner maneuvered his wheelchair out of the lift and into the hallway, which led to their loft.
Blair shook his head as he rested his arms against the padding of the arms of his new chair. "Not really, but I suppose its inevitable."
Jim was silent for a minute while he unlocked the door and held it open. His mind was divided. Part of it was on the major disaster that had barely been diverted at the hospital. Another part was thinking about how concerned he had been that Blair *wouldn't* come home with him, and how it wouldn't be a *home* without him. Still another part was thinking about the recent changes in their lives and if perhaps they shouldn't be changing with them.
It hadn't escaped his attention that getting into and out of their building could prove to be near impossible if the elevator should go on the fritz as it often did. Not to mention Blair's inability to make his way into Jim's bedroom in his present state. Of course, Blair rarely went into Jim's bedroom anyway, but that was something Jim seriously wanted to change.
Consequently, he was thinking about the viability for maybe making a change of scenery.
"You're just gonna let that drop?" Blair asked incredulously, bringing Jim out of his internal thoughts.
"What?" Jim asked, confused. He had momentarily forgotten what they were discussing.
"Jim, man, you alright?" Blair wheeled just a bit closer to Jim, and for a minute the look on his face was reminiscent of so many other times. But then reality seemed to snap back into focus.
"Yeah, fine. I was just thinking." Jim answered after locking up the loft and sitting heavily on the couch.
Blair made his way over to the couch and maneuvered himself as close to Jim as he could, without asking Jim to help him onto the couch. He knew that in time, with his therapy, he'd be able to lift himself in and out of his chair. But that time was a long way off, and he wasn't really all that keen on appearing weak in front of his roommate.
Despite everything Jim had tried to tell him since the *shooting* Blair wasn 't positive Jim's desire to keep him around didn't stem from guilt and pity. And those were two reasons he didn't want to keep him here, in Jim's loft.
"So, you want to know about Sid and Corrina?" Blair asked quietly. At Jim' s nod, he began.
"Corrina's father, Marcus, was one of Naomi's boyfriends. The *One*. They were only together for a few months, the longest of anyone, before or since."
"What happened?" Jim asked curiously when Blair seemed to be lost in his own memories.
Blair shrugged. "Cold feet, wanderlust, just plain old fashioned insanity. Pick one." He sighed deeply as he remembered that time. "She packed me off and we left. She didn't even say goodbye to him. I know it hurt her too much, and that's why. But."
"But you wish she would have stayed." Jim surmised.
Blair nodded. "Stayed, or at least talked to Marcus. He took it really hard." Blair looked into Jim's eyes. "He killed himself. Couldn't handle her leaving. He believed she really hadn't cared. But, God, Jim. She had. So much. She was never really the same after that. She never allowed herself to get close again.
"Corrina always blamed Naomi for her fathers death. In the beginning I think it was just easier to think that Naomi just didn't care. But as we got older, and she began to live her own life, away from the haunting memory of finding her father's body and away from 'could have beens', she began to see that it wasn't that Naomi didn't care, but that she cared *too* much. That just made it worse."
"Worse? How?" Him asked, perplexed, trying to understand this other side of Blair. This family that he'd never known about. This past he'd never bothered to ask about.
Blair sighed heavily and began to run is hands over the wheels in his chair, stifling the urge to move away from his friend. "Corrina thinks. thought. Naomi was a coward. That she chose to run instead of facing her fears."
"What do you think?"
"I. I think she was right. Well, she was twenty years ago. Back then, Naomi wasn't ready." Blair looked up at Jim, his eyes pleading for the older man to understand. "You've got to understand how things were. We were constantly moving, constantly running. We could never stay anywhere for very long. For fear."
"For fear of what?" Jim asked, feeling a lump in his throat of what Blair wasn't saying.
"It doesn't matter." Blair waved his hand. "Naomi wasn't ready then for a life with Marcus, and by the time she was, it was too late. Corrina never forgave her for what happened. Naomi never blamed her for how she felt. Blaming me, now *that's* something else altogether."
"You? What do you have to do with it?" Jim asked, deciding to set aside his other concerns, for now.
Blair nodded his head as he finally began to move his chair away from the couch. "Naomi didn't know till last year that I still had any contact with Corrina."
"Last year? What happened last year?" Jim felt the knot in his stomach tightening.
Blair wheeled himself over to the glass windows. "You remember what happened last year." He spoke softly. "I. I died."
"I brought you back." Jim gulped, the pain that memory brought back like a living thing, inside his chest.
"I know." Blair whispered, sentinel-soft.
(I'm not ready to make that trip with you.) Blair's subconscious mind kept playing that over and over again, till he could almost feel the pain the words brought as if he had heard them for the first time.
"What." Jim's throat felt thick with emotion. "What does this have to do with Naomi, or Corrina?"
"When I was in the hospital, Marguerite called Sid and Corrina, knowing they were the closest thing I had to family, and knowing I didn't really have anywhere else to go."
Jim's heart nearly stopped at the implications.
"Corrina called Naomi." Blair continued, oblivious to how his words were effecting his Sentinel. "I don't know how she found her, but she called her. I don't know exactly what was said, but when I went back to the university, after we came back from Sierra Verde, there was a letter from Naomi.
"She was angry that I'd lied to her all these years about my relationship with Corrina. She was angry that I had hidden it from her. She was angry that I didn't tell her about what happened. at the fountain. God, Jim, I've never seen her so upset. It didn't matter that it was just a letter. I could almost *feel* the bad vibes coming off of the paper.
"After that I didn't see or hear from her, until a couple of weeks before the accident." He motioned towards his own legs before continuing. "But Sid told me that Naomi had come to see them. Again, I don't know what was said, but it wasn't pretty."
"So that's it?" Jim asked unsteadily.
"As far as my family is concerned, yes."
"But.?" Jim was getting increasingly nervous.
"We need to talk, Jim."
Famous last words, Jim thought. But as much as he really didn't want to have this conversation, he knew it was important.
"Okay." He stood up and made his way over to the balcony doors. After he opened them and stepped outside he turned to face his partner and bent down so that they were at eye level. He took a deep breath before speaking. "I can't let you go. Not last year, not now, not ever."
"Why?" Blair asked quietly, solemnly. "Do you even know why?"
Jim nodded. "Yes, I do." He paused, gauging how much he should tell Blair, and realized it was time. All or nothing, and he couldn't survive nothing.
"I love you. More than life, more than death. I need you. More than air, more than water. I want you. More than anything before. More than anything that could ever be. You are everything. My world exists solely because you are in it."
Jim gazed lovingly into Blair's eyes, waiting for his love to respond.
Blair took a deep shuddering breath. "Wow." He knew it was inadequate, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.
"This." He waved his hands around, indicating his present mode of transportation, "Doesn't bother you?"
"No."
The simple one word answer coupled with the look of complete love in Jim's warm, blue eyes told Blair more than a thousand well-rehearsed words could have.
"I love you too."
****
"Are you telling me you failed?" Gina Villarandes hissed, stepping closer to Peter, making the nervous man back up a couple of inches.
"I. I. I shot *someone*." He tried to placate.
"Yes!" Gina snarled. "You shot *someone*! But you shot the wrong someone!"
"But they're dead, aren't they?" He asked plaintively.
Gina walked away and began pacing angrily around the room. "Yes, thanks to your incompetent blundering, they are dead. But, Blair Sandburg is still alive!"
"I'll fix it. I swear!" Peter begged as he saw the weapon Gina was leveling towards him.
Gina sighed. "No. It's too late for that now. You're a risk." She pulled the trigger and watched as the body slid to the floor, blood oozing all over the cement floor. She turned towards the man standing in the doorway, awaiting instructions.
"Get rid of this mess."
The man obeyed hastily, leaving Gina alone in the room once again after several minutes.
"If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself." She spoke softly as she looked at a newspaper clipping of Detective James Ellison and his civilian partner, Blair Sandburg.
"Soon, gentlemen, soon."
*****
Brian Whitaker paced nervously around his office, occasionally looking out the window in the high-rise building.
"This is all *your* fault." He accused the woman standing in the middle of the room, as though she didn't have a care in the world.
"How do you figure, Mr. Whitaker?" Gina Villarandes asked calmly. "If I recall our original arrangements, you were supposed to take care of the Ellison problem."
Brian nodded. "Yes, but your cousin got it into his thick head to make it personal. *He* screwed up, not me. And now. NOW, you've crippled his partner, and murdered some sort of family friend. Now, you've made it personal for *him*!"
Gina waved her hand. "That's not my concern." She picked up a file sitting on Brian's desk. "In three days, my people take over the government here," She pointed to a small map in the middle of the desk. Forty-eight hours after that, I start destroying cities." She set the file down and stepped closer to Brian. "It is your responsibility to make sure that no one, and I mean, NO ONE outside of the border finds out before the first explosion hits."
Brian nodded his understanding. "Don't worry. I know my job." He hesitated a second, afraid of angering the volatile woman further. "And Jim Ellison? What of him?"
Gina grinned evilly. "Don't you worry about him. By midnight tonight, there won't be enough left to fill an ashtray."
***** Brian Whitaker paced nervously in the small room. He stopped every once in awhile to stare into the mirror there. He knew that there was probably some cop on the other side staring at him, getting a laugh out of his misfortune.
He really didn't want to be here, but he was getting nervous. His last meeting with Gina Villarandes only served to affirm what he already believed to be true. She was insane. Now, his only hope of getting out of this mess was to get the help of one Cascade Cop of the Year.
Now, if only Jim Ellison would listen.
*****
"What do you think?" Detective Rafe asked his captain as the watched the nervous man pace.
"Call Ellison. Get him and Sandburg in here."
"You sure you want to bring Hairboy in?" Rafe asked warily.
Simon glared. "Yes. Whatever's going on has Gina Villarandes all over it. I want this case closed and fast!"
"Yes sir." Rafe left Captain Banks alone, his eyes boring through the two-way mirror.
****
Blair awoke the odd sensation of not being alone. He felt the warmth of another's body heat molded closely to his. He felt surrounded by that warmth. He felt protected. And loved. He felt that too.
In fact, it was that feeling which alerted his brain to where exactly he was, and what it was he was feeling. He looked up, to the ceiling, as if searching for proof. And there he found it.
Skylights.
Jim's skylights.
It was weird to be lying here, in Jim's bed, staring at Jim's skylights, and surrounded by Jim.
Beyond weird, it was *right*.
However, he still felt claustrophobic. Trapped.
But it wasn't by Jim, or even the way his body blanketed him, Jim's legs woven in between his own immovable ones. Although that was part of it.
The realization that he couldn't move. He was frozen to this spot and there was nothing he could do to change that. He wasn't afraid, not really. Not of Jim. He knew that Jim would move. Jim would help him move. Jim would do whatever he needed for him to do. That was never in question.
So, then, what was the problem?
He wasn't entirely certain. Part of his brain was just angry that he *needed* that help. Part of his brain was infinitely pleased that he *had* that help. Another part was just happy that he was where he was.
He was confused. Completely, totally, utterly.
"I think we should move." Jim's quiet voice broke through Blair's troubled thoughts.
It took Blair several minutes before he could assimilate what it was Jim had said.
"What?"
"I said," Jim kissed the fingers on the hand that was clasped tightly in one of his own, "I think we should move."
"Why?" Blair asked, dumbfounded.
Jim turned his head so that he could look at his love, raising an eyebrow.
Blair smiled, even though he was still confused as to where exactly this was leading. "Okay, I can see how living on the third floor of a building with a history of non-working elevators could be a problem." He acquiesced.
"So then, it's settled."
"No, its not." Blair spoke firmly as he tried to wriggle his body free. The lower portion a dead weight he felt he was dragging around. Jim untangled himself and helped Blair sit up.
"I don't understand." Now Jim was confused. They had just agreed, hadn't they?
"Jim, I don't want you to have to move." He held up a hand to still the protest. "I don't want to move. This is our home. My first real home in. ever."
Jim sighed as he swung his feet over the side of the bed. "It's just a place, Blair. Home is wherever you are."
He stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed and bent down to pick his love up and carry him downstairs.
Blair said nothing more but continued to think about what Jim said. His mind was a jumble of thoughts as Jim set him down on the toilet and began to fill the tub. A part of him enjoyed the care Jim was taking, but another part, wanted to be able to do these things himself.
Vowing to call that physical therapist the first chance he got, Blair let his mind drift and flow around his jumbled thoughts, hoping to make some sort of sense. Soon, he felt a splash of warm water on his upper back. He looked down and saw Jim had lowered him into the warm water and after the initial panicked realization that he couldn't feel the water on his legs, he relaxed into it as Jim washed him, thoroughly, tenderly.
He wasn't quite ready to discuss anything yet. Not what he had told Jim the previous night, not the fact they had slept in the same bed, not Jim's wanting to move. He wasn't ready for any of it, so instead he let his mind drift.
It was drifting just fine, while his body enjoyed the sensations of being bathed. Well, what parts of his body could actually *feel* it. He felt safe, and comforted, and utterly unalone. It was an unaccustomed, but pleasant feeling.
When his bath was over, Jim dried him off and helped him into some clean clothes before depositing him into his new chair. The one Sid had brought him. It was much more comfortable that the one he had originally left the hospital with, and found that it was a little bit smaller than the average size, build for maneuverability and comfort both, without taking away from function. He liked it, and was touched by the thoughts Sid must have put into selecting it.
Thinking about the new chair brought his thoughts back to his brother-in-law, but before he could dwell on his sister's death too much, the telephone rang, it's shrill ringing interrupting the quiet serenity of the morning.
After several minutes of quiet conversation, Jim hung up the phone and Blair could tell by the twitching in the Sentinel's jaw that whoever was on the phone didn't have good news.
Ah, another day in the life of Blair Sandburg and James Ellison. Sentinel and Guide.
****
Blair held on tightly to the railing inside the elevator as it made its slow descent down the three floors. Elevators still made him kind of nervous, ever since the near tragedy in Wilkins Towers. Especially this elevator, since it only worked when it was in the mood.
More often than not the anthropologist had taken to using the stairs, but that was no longer an option. Maybe Jim's idea of moving was something he should give serious thought to. The problem was that he hated the idea of leaving his first real home. The first place he had felt safe and loved and comforted.
And more than that he hated the idea that Jim would be giving up the loft. Jim loved it there. It allowed the Sentinel to keep watch over his city, no matter what else was going on. It had also been Jim's home for almost the entire time since his return from Peru.
Despite the tragedies, failed marriage and multitude of other bad things, the loft was still home, for them both, and Blair was reluctant to leave it, regardless of convenience.
"Hey, Chief, you okay?" Jim asked quietly, noticing Blair's silence. He had been subdued ever since he had been told about their needing to go down to the station, and why.
Blair looked up, reminded that he wasn't alone. "Yeah, big guy, I'm fine." He smiled slightly.
The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, and then closed again before either man had time to notice, trapping them inside.
****
The first explosion hit the third floor, apartment 307, setting off a string of other, smaller explosions, each one causing their own damage, like the effects of falling dominos.
*****
The earth moved. Literally. This wasn't some sort of clich. The entire building was coming down around them, and Blair knew with utter certainty that this very well could be the end.
He heard a groan and judging from its proximity, it was coming from somewhere on top of him. Although he couldn't quite be certain. His vision was clouded by dust and he wasn't entirely sure he was upright.
Another groan. This one, pain filled.
"You know," Blair began, somewhat weakly, trying to move his upper body in the direction of what he thought was up. "I'm never stepping inside another elevator. Ever."
Blair heard a slight movement from above him and tried to focus his sight. Jim was lying about three inches from him, his face contorted in pain, and his eyes glazed.
"Dial it down." Blair reminded softly.
After a moment, Jim seemed to have the pain under control and he tried to move around. It was then that Blair realized why Jim was so close to him. Apparently, in the aftermath of one of the explosions, Blair was thrown from his wheelchair, into one corner of the room. Jim somehow ended up in a heap on top of him.
But because of the paralysis, the Guide couldn't actually feel the pressure of his partner's weight. He found it kind off odd that although he was watching Jim move his body around, shifting his weight off of Blair, he couldn't actually feel any difference. It was rather disconcerting.
"Are you alright?" Jim asked as he tried to stand.
Blair nodded, his throat scratchy as the dust swirled around them. "What happened."
Jim's eyes lost their focus a little as he opened up his hearing. He narrowed in on the sounds surrounding them. There was a deathly silence filling the air. Jim could make out the shifting of gravel and stone and rock and plaster as what was left of their building settled.
In the distance, Jim could hear the sound of sirens and the whispers from people on the street stopping to see the ruin. There was a breeze from somewhere overhead, alerting the sentinel to the hole on the roof. The heavy steel beams, which constructed the elevator, had kept them relatively safe when the building came crashing down.
Still, Jim wanted to get himself, and Blair as far away from the wreckage as possible.
"It was her, wasn't it?" Blair's voice was quiet.
"Yeah." Jim agreed.
"Why? I don't get it. Why does she hate us so much? Wasn't killing Corrina enough? Paralyzing me? She had to blow our building up too? How many people died? Because of me? Because of us?"
Jim took a step forward and pulled Blair into his arms, being careful of the body that was even now bruising from the impact along the floor.
"Listen to me, Chief, Gina Villarandes is crazy. She was crazy last year when she and her cousin started running guns out of Cascade. She was crazy when she hatched that asinine plan to overthrow some poor little government in the middle of nowhere."
A resounding crash interrupted Jim's assessment of Gina Villarandes sanity. It didn't matter. Blair knew he was correct.
For whatever reason, Gina Villarandes had chosen to avenge her cousin's death by using Blair. And he couldn't blame anyone but her. It wasn't Blair's fault he seemed to be caught in the middle of this well orchestrated nightmare. Nor could he blame Jim. Not that Blaming Jim had ever crossed his mind.
Their lives would be forever intertwined and despite the inherent danger in living that way, it wasn't something he ever wanted to change. His sister's death reminded him that he had chosen this life, not for his dissertation, but because this is what was meant to be. And whether Jim said so or not, he was just as committed to their life, changes and all.
"Chief? Chief? Are you still with me?" Jim's insistent, and slightly alarmed voice broke through Blair's thoughts.
"Yeah, Big Guy, I'm here. Where else would I be?"
Jim, wisely, chose not to comment on the sarcastic tone of voice coming out of his normally cheerful partner. The last few days had no doubt run the younger man through an emotional ringer, not to mention the physical blows he had taken.
"I'm sorry, Jim." Blair apologized with a sigh and he tried to pull himself up with his arms.
Jim pulled Blair up, without comment, and sat him up against one of the stable steel beams, which formed the elevator.
"Simon's got people out there, trying to dig us out." The Sentinel told Blair as he leaned himself against a beam, so that he was facing his friend.
"Tell me about Brian Whitaker." Blair stared intently at his friend, who was now at eye-level.
"What?" Jim looked confused for a moment and then shrugged. "Not much to tell.
Blair raised an eyebrow, clearly stating he didn't believe that.
Jim sighed. "He was there. That day. That day that the warehouse blew, taking John Villarandes and his secrets with him."
Blair gasped almost inaudibly. This was the first he'd heard of this little piece of information. "Are you certain?"
Jim nodded and leaned forward a bit, preparing to tell the full truth of that horrible day for the first time. "I told you to wait in the truck and went inside. John Villarandes and Brian Whitaker were talking. I only understood bits and pieces of it. They were arguing. Something about a betrayal and stolen weapons. Whitaker was nervous sweating, pleading, for. something." Jim looked up into the blue eyes of his soul. That's when everything gets muddled. I caught a whiff of something. Some foreign smell. Not like body heat or gasoline, or gun oil. It was. odd. I focussed in on it, trying to identify it. It was this sweet smell. Almost sickeningly sweet. I dialed up smell just a bit more, and that's when I must have zoned, because the next thing I remembered was a flash of orange and the heat of the explosion.
"When I looked around, I discovered we were away from the warehouse. You were shaking so bad, your heart beating so quickly, I couldn't sense anything else."
"I waited in the truck all of about three minutes. Then I had this sudden urge to run after you." Blair began filling in the blanks. "When I reached you, you were zoned, and suddenly I *knew* I had to get you out of there, away from the building. I dragged you away. A few minutes later, the first explosion hit."
Blair reached out a hand and squeezed Jim's arm, as the memories of that day and the fear they brought flooded his mind. "That was the day I realized I loved you." He spoke the words out loud for the first time, leaving no mistake about their meaning. "I knew I almost lost you, and I wasn't even sure how or why."
"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Jim asked quietly as he pulled the younger man towards him, blocking out the sounds of the rescue team and focusing on Blair.
Blair sighed. "There wasn't any point. It was one sided. I guess I figured maybe some day I'd tell you, but." He hesitated a second. "Then this happened," He motioned towards his paralyzed limbs. "And then it would have just been about pity, and I didn't want that. I could never live like that." He looked up at Jim, his eyes misting over. "But I realized, that I was wrong."
Jim tightened his grip on Blair's body as he bent forward and placed a tender, almost chaste kiss on those loveable lips. "Yeah you were." He breathed.
Before anything else could be said, the loud clang of moving steel was heard and a couple of rescue workers in hard hats appeared.
"You folks okay in here?"
Jim nodded. "Yeah." He stood up, bringing Blair up with him, holding him in strong arms, as he let the men guide them out of the wreckage.
****
It was nearly seven hours later that found Blair Sandburg on the ground floor of the Cascade Police Department. He was rather hesitant to get into the elevator, but taking the stairs wasn't really an option.
Maybe he should just sit there, and wait on the ground floor for Jim. Surely his meeting with Simon couldn't take *that* long. He sat staring at the elevator doors, trying to get enough courage to brave the evil contraption.
"Blair?"
Blair twisted his head around. He smiled when he saw the familiar face.
"Brenda." He rolled over to the homicide detective. She had worked a couple of cases with Jim in the past and was one of the people outside of Major Crimes that he didn't feel he had to explain himself to.
"What are you doing here? I would think you'd be upstairs with that hunk of yours." She grinned at him.
Blair blushed slightly. Brenda had made it a habit to tease him unmercifully about the sparks she claimed she saw between Jim and himself. It never really bothered him before. There was no basis in fact to her so-called observations. But now. now it seemed maybe she wasn't as far off the mark as he had originally thought.
Brenda took pity on her friend. "Hey I'm going to go question Whitaker. Care to tag along?"
Blair's eyes shot up. "Whitaker? As in Brian Whitaker?"
Brenda nodded, not understanding the significance of the name.
"What's he doing here?" Blair asked, confused. If Whitaker was here why was Brenda going to question him, instead of Jim?
"Well, he was brought in for questioning this morning. It looks like he may have been involved in the death of one of his chemists."
At the word 'chemists', it all started to slip into place. Brian Whitaker was a Pharmaceutical tycoon. He had been suspected in many cases of the creation and trafficking of both legal and illegal drugs.
With sudden clarity, Blair realized that Whitaker was most likely responsible for the poison, which has aided in his paralysis.
"Blair? Are you alright?" Brenda was growing concerned at the continued silence.
Blair nodded. "You say he was brought in this morning? Why are you only questioning him now?"
Brenda sighed as she began pushing Blair's chair in the direction of the interrogation rooms. "Well, as soon as he gets down here, he starts pacing around, screaming about how he'll only talk to Ellison. We called Banks. I'm not really sure what happened after that. My captain was told you guys get first crack at him, but since there seemed to be a delay, I thought I'd see what I could get out of him, before the old Ellison charm wins him over."
Blair smirked at the description of Jim's 'technique'.
"So, you want to watch?" She asked, bending over so her face was inches from his own.
"Oh, I'll do better than that." Blair answered, an idea sparking in his head.
****
"So, what have we got?" Simon asked as he closed his office door behind Connor and Jim.
"The explosives were a Villarandes special. There's no doubt Gina was behind this." Jim rubbed his eyes wearily, wondering when this nightmare was going to end.
"So, what? She's given up playing her little game, and decide to just take you out?" Simon asked shaking his head. "That doesn't make sense."
"She doesn't make sense." Jim growled. "She's completely unglued."
"And what about Brian Whitaker? How does he fit into all this?"
Jim tossed a file onto the desk. "According to the hospital's tests, the bullet that they pulled out of. Sandburg. it was coated in some sort of toxin. It wasn't like anything they'd ever seen before."
Simon picked up the file and looked through it. "So you think it was a Whitaker creation? Why?"
Jim shrugged. "Who knows. He's somehow connected to the Villarandes'. Balsin told me that Whitaker was working on some biological weapons for their little war."
"What a minute." Connor interrupted. She looked from Jim to Simon and back again. "I thought you told me Whitaker was a General in your Army."
Jim sighed. "He was. But before he was a general, he was a doctor. His father ran a pharmaceutical company and when he retired he took it over."
Simon picked up another file sitting on his desk and handed it to Connor. "He's been suspected in a dozen different narcotics cases."
Connor looked the file over and frowned. This guy was a piece of work. If he was responsible for the poison on the bullet that hit Sandy, she wanted him behind bars.
"So, where is he now?" She asked after a few minutes.
Simon smiled broadly. "Here."
"What?"
"What?"
Simon nodded at the surprised looks on his officer's faces. "Yep. It seems he was suspected in the death of a chemist who worked for him. Homicide brought him in this morning." Simon took out one of his cigars and relished the expression on Ellison's face.
"I told Homicide we get first crack at him, so he's just been cooling his heels on the first floor." The captain chuckled.
Jim smiled despite himself. Then the words seemed to spark something and he frowned. "Did you say the first floor?"
"Yeah, why?" Simon asked.
"Sandburg's down there." He hissed and stormed out of the office.
Simon turned to Megan. "You don't think.?"
"With Sandy, you never know." Megan got up and followed Ellison, with Simon only a couple of strides behind her.
****
"Unless you're detective Ellison, you're wasting my time." Brian Whitaker spoke as the door opened and someone entered. He didn't even look to see who it was. It really didn't matter.
"Then it's my time to waste." The voice was quiet, but there was a deadly edge to it. "And I seem to have a lot of time these days."
Whitaker turned around to face the newcomer and was surprised to find someone who obviously wasn't a cop. He was staring at a man, seemingly in his early thirties, wheelchair bound. But that wasn't what surprised him the most.
The man himself, seemed so entirely out of place in the interrogation room of a police station, yet completely at home, as if he *lived* at the station. As if he knew ever nook and cranny, and had ever right to be right where he was.
"You're not a cop." Whitaker spoke finally.
The man smiled, but it wasn't really a friendly smile. "No, I'm not."
"Who are you?" Whitaker asked, suddenly very nervous.
"Blair Sandburg." Blair wheeled slightly closer, causing Whitaker to back up. "And I believe I have you to thank for this brand spanking new mode of transportation."
Whitaker stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment and then his eyes went wide in dawning understanding. "You're him. Ellison's partner."
"So I am." Blair commented conversationally.
Brian Whitaker's eyes seemed to be taking in the sight before him. Blair staring at him through the tendrils of curly hair which had fallen into his eyes. Blair's arms gripping the wheels tightly, preparing to move if necessary. Blair's legs resting on the footrest, in a way that didn't look like they were just *hanging* there. But they were. And at second glance, Brian Whitaker could see that they were.
Still, he was surprised. Surprised that he hadn't died. The poison bullet was something of an achievement for him. Something he was kind of proud of. Quick, and deadly. And yet this man, this small, seemingly harmless man had survived. True he obviously wasn't in the same condition as before but he had survived.
And before he knew it, his mouth was open and speaking words he knew he shouldn't.
"You're alive."
Blair nodded. "I am. Surprising, isn't it?" He moved his chair forward ever so slightly. "That bullet was your little creation wasn't it?" His voice had grown soft, and anyone who knew him personally would no that the lack of enthusiasm in his movements and voice, would know that something was wrong. But Brian Whitaker didn't know Blair Sandburg, so he didn't know to be wary.
Blair rolled back suddenly, quietly. "You know, I came down here to get some answers from you. To find out what it is you thought you were doing exactly. I mean." He paused and gave Whitaker a long searching look, "Gina Villarandes is nuts. Trust me, I know."
Blair held his face steady as he grinned internally at the small gasp that broke through the older man's lips at the mention of Gina Villarandes.
"Does she know you're here? Cause, if not, I'm sure she'd like to. I can. call her, for you. As a courtesy, of course."
"Of. course." Whitaker barely managed to whisper. He began to panic as Blair wheeled his chair towards the door. It appeared he was going to leave. And he just couldn't allow that. Because he knew, with utter certainty that this man, would indeed call Gina. And it didn't matter that Gina had tried to kill this man, several times. And it didn't matter that technically the police had brought him in, on something that had nothing to do with her plans or her 'cause'. None of that mattered, because all she would see was a threat. And she would kill him, and probably a lot of other people. Because she was *that* crazy.
"Wait." Brian stepped forward, hating the pleading tone of his own voice. "What do you want?"
Blair stopped moving and swiveled around to face the man. He was shaking inside, and trying so *very* hard not to let it show.
"What do I want?" He asked, quietly, almost ominously as he pretended to think about it. "I want to know what it is you did to me." He swirled around in a circle and then turned to face Whitaker once more. "I want to know where that bitch is." His words were deadly quiet, his voice oddly calm. "I want to know what was so DAMNED important that you felt it necessary to blow up an entire building."
Whitaker scrambled for a defense. "I. I had nothing to do with that!"
Blair moved closer, continuing as if the man hadn't spoken. "Thirteen people died in that explosion. Thirteen people. Did you know that? Do you even care?" He hissed.
Whitaker stood there, staring, for minutes, not knowing what to say, not knowing what she should say, but *knowing* he had to say something.
"I'm sorry." He offered, knowing that his apology didn't mean anything, and he wasn't even sure why he was saying it.
"You're sorry?" Blair shook his head, deciding that he wasn't even going to bother with this man. He had come in here for only one reason. "Where is she?" He asked again.
Brian Whitaker gulped. "167 Feslea Boulevard. Third floor."
Blair moved towards the door and banged on it, alerting Brenda, who was waiting outside to his desire to leave.
Just as the door was opened, Whitaker spoke again. "It's too late for you, you know. That bullet should have killed you. There's no going back. You're lucky you survived."
Blair heard the outer door open and he just *knew* Jim was on his way down the hall. He turned slightly to face Whitaker. "No, you're lucky I survived." There was a loud clang as a nearby door was slammed. "I think you're luck has just run out."
Blair wheeled out of the room just as Jim entered the hallway, a look of complete and utter irritation on his face. Simon Banks and Megan Connor followed him.
"Blair!" Jim looked from his partner's face to the two-way mirror outside of the interrogation room. "Brian Whitaker?" He asked unnecessarily.
Blair nodded. "I got an address."
Jim raised in eyebrow in surprise. He turned towards Detective Brenda Marliot who was standing outside the room. "Keep him on ice. I'll be back."
Brenda grinned. "Don't worry. He isn't going anywhere, for a long, long time."
Confident in the truth of that statement, the four members of Major Crimes left the hallway, eager to follow up the new lead.
****
"No!" Blair Sandburg hissed at his partner through clenched teeth.
They were stopped at a red light and he desperately, desperately wanted to open the passenger side door and jump out, and run, before Jim Ellison even knew what the hell had happened.
However, being that his legs didn't work *quite* as well as they used to, that wasn't likely to happen. He sighed. It was just as well. He knew Jim was right. He *hated* that Jim was right.
"It'll be over before you know it. I'll come and pick you up, and we'll go out. to celebrate." Jim offered, hoping that the raid to take down Gina Villarandes was as easy as he thought it was going to be.
Blair turned his head away from the window to look at Jim. He wanted to snap at him, but, again, he realized his partner was right. "Okay. But call me as soon as you can."
Jim smiled slightly and nodded as the light turned green. They drove in silence for a few minutes. He was suddenly having second thoughts. Not about bringing Blair to the bust. That was a decidedly bad idea. But about taking Blair to the university. He hadn't been there since his kidnapping. But Blair had refused to wait at the station, and this had *seemed* like as good a place as any for him to wait.
"So, what are you going to do?" Jim asked cautiously.
"Hmm?" Blair asked distractedly as he thrummed and unfeeling beat on his thigh. "Oh, I've got work to do." Blair spoke quietly as the truck pulled into the Rainier parking lot.
"You gonna be okay?" Jim asked after parking, turning his body slightly to face his partner.
"Yeah. I'll be fine." He looked up into Jim's blue eyes. "*We'll* be fine."
"Yeah, we will." Jim agreed just before leaning forward and placing a kiss on Blair's lips. The kiss was strong, and powerful and spoke of love and passion, and the need to know that everything *was* going to be okay.
Moving his lips down Blair's jaw, to his neck, Jim spoke roughly. "God, I love you, Chief. If anything." He couldn't finish the thought.
Blair gripped Jim's face in his hands and turned him so they were practically nose to nose. "But it didn't. And it won't. You and I are a team. I got the information, now you go catch the bad guys." He smiled softly and placed a tender kiss on his Sentinel's lips. He pulled away reluctantly. "Now, help me out of this contraption, and into that one." He motioned towards the bed of the truck where his wheelchair was folded.
Jim nodded and let Blair go, climbing out of the truck to do what Blair asked. His love was right. They were a team. And things were going to be okay.
**** Blair Sandburg rolled around on the tile floor nervously. Back and forth. Back and forth.
"Stop."
Blair did stop. He swiveled his chair around to face the speaker. Sid Weatherly was just coming around the corner, with Naomi Sandburg of all people. It was an unusual sight, and one Blair Sandburg wasn't entirely certain he was seeing.
"You're making me dizzy." Commented Sid as he rolled himself closer.
Blair looked from the older man, who was at his own eye level, up to his mother and then back again. "What.?" He couldn't seem to make any other words come out of his mouth in any coherent fashion.
Naomi stepped forward and bent down to give her son a hard hug. "Sweetie, we couldn't leave you to the wolves, all by yourself." She stood up and looked around. "Where is Jim?"
"Meeting." Blair answered absently, still confused. "What are you doing here? Both of you?"
Naomi smiled. "Well, we. talked." She offered, being purposefully cryptic.
Blair nodded his understanding, although he didn't understand, not at all. "You talked?"
Sid grinned. "Yeah. About Corrina. About Marcus. About. everything in between."
This time when Blair nodded it *was* with complete and utter understanding. "That's good. It's been a long time coming."
"Yeah, it has." Naomi agreed.
Before anything further could be said a door opened. A woman stepped out and eyed the three people carefully. Her face was completely neutral, but as her eyes came to rest on Blair's face she broke out in a wide smile.
"Congratulations! Mr. Sandburg, you are now a Doctor."
Blair was stunned for a second. He wasn't entirely certain that he had heard correctly. His dissertation had been a long time in coming. Nearly four years he'd been researching his Sentinel, and several times in the past year he had considered scrapping the book. Not because it was bad, or wasn't worth publishing, but because of the possible damage it could do to Jim. Then a couple of months ago he had gone through the entire thing and edited it, making sure there was no direct connection to Jim in any of the research.
The copy of his dissertation he had finally turned in, the one that he had defended today, was, missing some of his original research, but still retained the spirit of the original.
Still, he wasn't sure if it was enough. If he had presented it properly. But apparently, he had been worried for nothing. Because his advisor was standing here telling him he was a Doctor. A doctor of anthropology.
"Blair, honey? Are you alright?" Naomi's voice broke through his internal thoughts.
Blair blinked. "Yeah. I'm good. Real good. I can't wait to tell Jim."
****
Jim Ellison approached the familiar halls of Rainier University warily. Blair was defending his dissertation today. He was concerned about how it had gone. Blair had let him read it, before hand. It was good. Excellent, entertaining, and several other adjectives that Jim could name. But even Jim, with his somewhat small understanding of Anthropology in general and Blair's research in specific, knew that the final dissertation contained only a fraction of the anthropologist's research.
The detective was afraid it wasn't enough. That they wouldn't give him his doctorate. That he'd have to start over from scratch. Or worse.
The past week had been really difficult, for both of them. Still learning to deal with the changes in their lives brought on by Blair's new physical restrictions, Sentinel and Guide hadn't had much time to talk, about much of anything.
They'd spent the past week staying in a hotel, not even having time to attempt to look for a new place to live. And between learning to live with the changes, and spending several nights with Naomi and Sid, they hadn't had much time to discus what would happen next.
Thanks to the information provided by Brian Whitaker when Jim had given him some 'special' attention, Gina Villarandes' location was uncovered and they had moved in to capture her, alive. However, Gina had other plans and was killed, along with three of her men in an explosion, which had taken out half of the building.
Jim couldn't claim to be upset by her death. As far as he was concerned, she got what she was coming to her. Although he would have liked to have been the one to kill her.
It was kind of ironic though; she died by her own hand, in a way. The weapons were hers. The detonator was hers. In the end, it was one of her own men who set the explosives off. She died just like her cousin. In pieces.
Still, he couldn't find it in himself to be happy about it. Blair was still paralyzed. He would never get the use of his legs back. He would never be able to work with him again, for anything more dangerous than paperwork.
But Blair was alive, and not planning on leaving him, so it was enough. More than enough.
His internal thoughts were halted as he heard voices. He slowed his steps as he listened. Blair was talking. To his mother. And Sid Weatherly. That realization alone was enough to concern him.
Blair had told him about Naomi's history with Sid's deceased wife, and in the eight days since he had met the paraplegic widower, any time Sid was in the same room with Naomi, one of two things happened.
Either a sudden and uncomfortable silence would fill the room, accompanied by pointed, accusatory looks. Or, Naomi would attempt friendly conversation, and somehow, Sid would direct the conversation to his wife and things that had happened a long time ago.
In any case, it was less than pleasant for Jim, and considerably more stressful for Blair. And to find them, here, in the halls of Rainier university, talking. Talking, not arguing, or practicing the merits of strained silence. It was a welcome surprise.
Jim turned the corner and could now match vision with sound. Blair was sitting in his chair, hugging some woman Jim could only barely recall meeting, with an enormous grin on his face.
"Chief?" Jim asked as he strode closer.
The woman pulled away and smiled at him as she quietly entered the door just to her left.
"Jim." Blair grinned. "I did it! I really did it."
Jim bent down and hugged Blair, letting go entirely too soon for his liking. "I knew you could." He told him, and it was true, mostly.
"What do you say we go out, to celebrate?" Sid asked jovially.
Jim turned to face the man, ready to agree when Blair's voice stopped him.
"Sorry, we can't."
"We can't?" Jim asked as he turned back towards his partner.
"No, Jim, we can't." Blair reminded him with exaggerated patience. "We have stayed at that hotel long enough. Besides weren't you the one who insisted on moving? So now you get to help find a place." He grinned slightly at the groan he knew would be forthcoming at the reminder of the task ahead of them.
Jim groaned because he knew it was expected but then smiled at the thought of finding a new place to live. Although the act of actually *looking* was less than pleasant, the idea of picking a new place, with Blair, more than made up for it.
"Hey, I wasn't the one who decided the building should be demolished." The words were said lightly, but they did carry an undertone of sadness. Both at the loss of lives at Gina Villarandes' hands and at the loss of their home.
Blair nodded silently and turned back to the two other people still in the hall. "Naomi, how long will you be in town?"
Naomi looked away for a second and then turned back to her son as she stepped forward. "I'm leaving tomorrow, honey. But I'll be back to visit next month."
Blair nodded, not really expecting to see her the following month, but not counting her out either. He rolled slightly closer to her, so that he could hug her. She bent down and engulfed him, the silk of her wrap almost flying around him, one end of it getting trapped in one of his wheels.
Sid silently rolled forward, so his own chair was next to Blair's and bent forward to unwind the fabric.
"Blair, I want you to call me. After you move, we can get your new place fitted with that equipment we talked about." He hesitated a second. "You called Mark?"
Blair turned away from Naomi, a hand still tightly clasped in one of hers. "Yes, Sid, I called Mark. I have an appointment tomorrow."
Sid nodded, satisfied and reached out a hand and squeezed Blair's shoulder. "Okay. Good enough. You call me." He smiled once and then maneuvered his chair around so it was facing the other direction. He turned to Jim. "It was nice meeting you, Detective. Take care of him."
"I will." Jim promised.
Sid seemed to take the words at face value and began to roll down the hallway. Once he turned the corner, Jim moved his gaze back to Blair and Naomi. Naomi was hugging him again.
"I love you, sweetie." She whispered fiercely, tears glistening in her eyes.
"I love you too, mom." Blair wiped a hand at his own watery eyes as Naomi stood up. She turned around and gave Jim a hug, squeezing him tightly. "Take care of my baby." She whispered in his ear. At Jim's answering squeeze, Naomi stepped away and disappeared down the hallway, leaving the two men alone.
****
"So, what now?" Jim asked after they had made their way to his truck, and were both seatbelted in.
"Now as in right this second, or now, as in what do I do now that I'm an actual doctor?" Blair asked as he quirked an eyebrow.
"Either. Both." Jim answered as he started the engine.
"Melissa, my advisor, she offered me a job. Teaching." Blair answered the toughest question.
Jim, hearing that there was more to come, kept silent.
"It's weird you know, because it's like everything has changed, and yet nothing has changed." At the raise of Jim's eyebrow, he continued. "I mean, I'm still here, at Rainier, still teaching. maybe. And Simon says that I can still consult with the department, but I won't be able to ride along anymore, obviously." He glanced out the window for a moment before going on. "And you and I, we're still together." He whispered.
"Always, Chief." Jim said solemnly, with a level of emotion, anyone but Blair Sandburg wouldn't have believed possible.
"So, it's like nothing has really changed. But." Blair hesitated as he looked at his legs, which were getting more movement from the vibrations of the truck than they had of their own accord, in what was beginning to feel like forever. The weird thing was it wasn't so bad. Knowing that he would never walk again. Knowing that he wouldn't ride along with Jim anymore.
He was still alive. Still *with* Jim, and that was what was important, wasn't it? Everything was going to be okay.
"But?" Jim prompted.
"But everything has changed, hasn't it?"
Jim took his right hand off of the steering wheel and entwined his fingers with Blair's as he spoke. "Not the important things, Chief. Not the important things.
Yeah, they *were* going to be all right.
****
END
Okay, you should probably know, I am *thinking* of writing some sort of follow up to this, but nothing's been decided. If you have any ideas, feel free to share them with me :)
http://kyliasworld.cjb.net *** "You might have been just an observer, but you were the best cop I've ever met and the best partner I could have ever asked for. You've been a great friend and you've pulled me through some pretty weird stuff." ~ Jim Ellison - "The Sentinel By Blair Sandburg"
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