Disclaimer: See Fan Fiction page

The Sentinel
- Intersections -
written by Dotty

PART ONE

The interrogation room was light green, dusty and blank. The only furniture present was a long table with two chairs, a tape recorder, and a two-way mirror. The chairs were metal, uncomfortable and “downright ugly” decided Blair Sandburg, wondering if it was a little known law nationwide that all such rooms had to be as unsightly as possible.

Blair had spent the best part of an hour pacing up and down the small 10 x 6 room, becoming more, well ticked off, with each step. “A simple prisoner pick-up. Two days in DC. Jim’s is going to be in court. What could go wrong?” echoed Simon’s voice in his ears. Blair had already gone through every torture ritual he could think of in several different cultures. Simon, as well as his partner, would pay. Simon for sending him here, Jim-well just because. Tests had already been thought up, planned, and damn it, would be implemented! At that thought, Blair threw back his head and laughed. “I can’t believe this! As mom would say, my karma is going downward so fast a rolling stone couldn’t keep up!” thought Blair still chuckling. Knowing how the game was played, he decided to relax and wait. It would still be awhile before someone actually entered the room for phase two. The trick, Blair decided, was to modify the rules, to do the unexpected. Being in a new city, with new players, meant attempting to change things in his favor if possible.

Blair knew whoever was behind the two-way mirror that hung on one side of the room, was watching, gauging his reactions, and playing a waiting game. Waiting for what they thought would be a breaking point before entering to ask their questions, voice their comments, make their insinuations and maybe, just maybe, explain why he was here. Having made his decision, Blair did a, well, Blair thing. He took off his jacket, hopped up on the table, lay down, crossed his arms. …… and went to sleep.

To the man watching from the other side of the mirror, Blair Sandburg was a mystery. One he intended to solve. He’d watched the detective (Detective!?!) pace around the room almost as if he were a caged animal.. At one point, when Sandburg had stopped pacing, he thought he’d had him where he wanted him mentally and emotionally. Then Sandburg had laughed!?! That had been startling enough, but then the he’d watched open mouthed as Sandburg had lain down on the table. Snoring!

“Enough! It’s time to get this going,” he thought as he smiled a rather grim smile, walked out the door, took four paces to his right and entered the room where Sandburg lay sleeping almost like a baby.

Blair didn’t hear the other man enter. The first clue he had was someone shaking his shoulder and saying in a sarcastic tone of voice, “Mr. Sandburg, if it wouldn’t be TOO much trouble, would you join me at the table please. Preferably in a chair.”

Blair woke up to a pair of blue eyes that were so familiar he was disoriented. “When did Jim get to DC? Why is he here? What is up with that tone of voice?”

Shaking himself awake, Blair took a minute to get oriented. Looking around, he realized he was still in the dingy room, but someone had come to play in the second stage of the game. Finally looking up at the person who had shaken him, he got a shock that literally robbed him of speech.

Towering over him, even while he sitting on the table, was Jim.

Blair kept looking at Jim, waiting for him to speak, to talk. Nothing. “Uh, ok. What’s going on?” Blair asked tentatively, trying to come completely awake. “Well, MR. Sandburg, I was hoping you could tell Me.” came the very icy reply. Blair wondered idly if one could cut into ice blocks with that voice.

There were a few moments of silence in the room as the two men faced each other. Blair slowly scooted off the table and into a chair at one side. As he came more awake, he studied the man in front of him carefully. As he did, he began noticing some things he hadn’t noticed before. Jim in a suit. Jim with longer, though less hair. Jim with very cold blue eyes. Jim as he had been BS-Before Sandburg. Jim with a smile that would have made T-Rex run away. Jim with a posture of total arrogance.

Blair came to a sudden realization. This Jim was not Jim. Which meant he was in serious trouble. Again.

Not Jim watched the expressions flitting across Sandburg’s face carefully. The more he knew of the man in front of him, the easier it would be to get what he wanted. What he wanted was answers. What he saw didn’t surprise him. Sandburg has an expressive face, that when caught unaware showed everything he was feeling. He saw sleepiness, surprise, confusion, awareness and then wariness.

Not Jim smiled a smile at Blair that made the temperature in room drop, Blair shiver, ice freeze even harder, and, if it were still in existence, would have made the KGB envious. “So nice of you to join us, Mr. Sandburg. I’m soooo sorry to disturb your nap. If it’s not a problem for you, may we get down to business?”

Blair looked at the man in front of him cautiously. Not Jim looked like Jim, sounded like Jim, and did sarcasm like Jim, maybe even better.

“OK. Who are YOU?” asked the smaller man.

“Oh I’m so sorry. Didn’t I introduce myself? I’m Captain Vince Hunter, DC Metro Internal Affairs and I have some questions for you Mr. Sandburg.” answered the man silkily.

Blair looked at the man across from with curiosity. “What would you like to know?”

“Why are you in D.C. Mr. Sandburg? When did you arrive? How long are you going to be here? When were you planning on leaving? What have you been doing while visiting?”

Blair had listened to the questions, at first patiently, then with growing annoyance. With his habit of opening his mouth before thinking sometimes, he disbelievingly heard himself answer in a sugar sweet tone of voice “You mean YOU don’t know?” Blair smiled his most innocent smile, raised an eyebrow, and waited for the roof to cave in.

Vince Hunter looked at the man in front of him unsure of what to say. “Did you forget? Didn’t anyone tell you? Why didn’t you write it down? Isn’t there a memo, note, directive? Didn’t you make the last staff meeting? Is this forgetfulness becoming a problem in your job? Have you sought treatment?” continued Blair in a concerned tone of voice.

Vince Hunter could no longer restrain himself. “What in the hell are you rambling on about?“ He roared in a voice that would have cut glass. “I’m so sorry. Just trying to be helpful. You seem a bit uh confused.” Blair responded in a saccharine voice. “Do you need me to get someone for you? A glass of water, coffee…anything? Is it time for medicine?” he asked in his most helpful tone of voice.

To say two men watching with interest behind the mirror were stunned would be an understatement. They turned, looked at each other with shock on their faces, turned back to the mirror feeling sorry for the younger man in the room. They knew Vince Hunter. Detective. Sandburg didn’t. They had the feeling he was going to get to know the Capt. and his well-known personality very, very soon.

They didn’t know Blair Sandburg.

The third man behind the mirror did.

Simon Banks had flown a red eye to D.C. as soon as possible after getting a phone call from Chief of Police Mannion. The chief hadn’t gone into details; just that IA was involved, his detective was going to be questioned, and an investigation had began. Simon hadn’t been able to get many details, but had insisted on being there. Since he wasn’t a lawyer, he couldn’t be in the room with Blair, but he could and would be there for him. As far as he knew, Blair had not been told he was even there. Simon wasn’t worried. He knew within a short while there was “Going to be a hot time in the old town tonight.” Blair’s partner was due in shortly. Then, Simon knew the fun would start He didn’t even have to pay a cover charge.

Blair Sandburg looked at the man in front of him with a look of total innocence on his face.

Apologetically he quietly stated, “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Please don’t tell me your superiors would give you a problem about this. That would be discriminatory. “ He paused, then added helpfully “ I can give you the name of a good lawyer if you’d like.”

Vince Hunter looked at the man in front of him like someone looking at a contagious disease through a microscope. He knew Sandburg would be tough. He hadn’t expected mind games. OK. He could play.

“Mr. Sandburg, if…”

“Detective.”

“What?”

“Detective.”

“Excuse me?!?”

“D.E.T.E.C.T.I.V.E. A noun, but can be used as an adjective. It describes a job, is a title, states a person’s place in society.” answered Blair calmly.

“Tell me, DETECTIVE, is that a title you’ve earned, is it deserved?” came the softly spoken question.

“Oh it’s earned. I earned it the first time I was taken hostage by a militia, the first time I was kidnapped, every time I’ve been shot, beaten, drugged. Yeah, I earned it. Years before it was actually given me.” came the hard reply, along with a harder stare.

For a moment there was a silence in the room. “ I earned it with every life I saved, every criminal I arrested, every time I solved a crime with my partner. I earned every time I was on the front line as a civilian, an observer. I earned it while being shot at, blown up, drugged, beaten, kidnapped, hospitalized, dealt with terrorists.,” stated Blair in a very matter-of-fact voice. “ I even died while earning it Captain. How about you?” he ended softly.

For a few fleeting moments there was silence in both rooms.

For two of the men watching behind the two-way mirror, what had happened had been a shock. Simultaneously, both men turned to the third on in the room as if he could provide a clue or answer to what was happening. Simon just smiled a sad smile, remained quiet and continued watching events unfold in the interrogation room with a look of profound grief on his face.

Vince Hunter leaned forward with his elbows on the table. Crossing his hand in front of him, he looked at Sandburg again. Blair continued to meet his gaze without showing any signs of intimidation. He returned the Captain’s look steadily.

With a mental start, Vince Hunter realized the man in front of him was not as easily shaken as he had thought. With a pause, he realized he was actually enjoying the verbal jousting between the two of them. Oh well, time to get down to business.

Before he could resume however, Blair calmly said, “ Now that we’ve waded through the macho BS, mind telling me why I was asked here today?”

“Very well. You arrived in the District two days ago, correct?”

“Correct”

“You arrived at 2:57 pm, checked into the Ramada at 5 pm, had room service. Where did you go after that?”

“I did the tourist thing. Wandered around, looked at some sights, did some quick shopping and returned to the hotel, called my partner around 7:30, showered and went to bed”

“While you were out doing “the tourist thing” did you go to McKinney antique store?”

“Yes”

“Yes?”

“Yes”

“ Is there anything you would like to add to your yes?” came the sarcastic question.

Blair smiled. “Come on Captain. You know how this is done. Minimal information with maximum questions. Any class you take on testifying or being questioned will teach you that. Any good DA will tell you that’s the best way to respond. Force your questioner to drag info out of you.”

Captain Hunter smiled at Blair. It was not a friendly smile. More like a shark sizing up his part of the food chain at that moment.

“Very well, Detective. While in McKinney’s, you met a man named Paul Sondergard. Do you remember him? Why did you meet him? What the purpose of this meeting? Why were you there? What this prearranged? What is your business with him?”

“Yes. Coincidence. None. Visiting. No. Nothing.” came the calm reply.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“On which question?”

“ANY OF THEM!” came a rather snarled reply.

For a moment, Blair contemplated the man in front of him.

“Very well Captain. What specifically do you want to know?”

“I want to know what your relationship with Paul Sondergard is. Why did you meet with him?”

“Paul and I met accidentally. I didn’t even know he was here. We attended some classes together at Rainier University a few years ago. I saw an old acquaintance and we spoke for a few moments. I have no further plans to meet with him again. We spoke for a few minutes, caught up on old times and went our separate ways. End of story.”

“Were you close friends?”

“No. Again, Captain, what is going on?"

“Three months ago, two officers were convicted of weapons violations. They had stolen weapons from evidence and sold them out on the streets. It took a few months, but we were able to get convictions. However, we were not able to get enough evidence to arrest their contact person who arranged the sales. Paul Sondergard. We have been able to ascertain several of the weapons left the area and have shown up in the western states, including Washington. We’ve been keeping him under surveillance and Lo! And Behold! Who turns up, but Blair Sandburg of Washington, not exactly the most unknown person in the universe? Especially for his, oh shall we say, trustworthiness?”

Years of working with Jim had taught Blair one thing if nothing else. He knew how to make his face a blank when emotionally upset. At this point, nothing was readable when one looked at him.

Both rooms were silent again. After a couple of minutes, the room to the observation room opened.

“Excuse me chief, but there is a problem.”

One of the men turned to ask what the problem was.

“Well, if I didn’t know Captain Hunter was busy, I’d say he was at the front raising several different kinds of hell with everyone in earshot.” answered the obviously frustrated woman.

“Show him back here Ella.”

“Not necessary” came the short, tight answer.

The man who walked into the room was calm, controlled and downright scary. He and the Captain could have been twins, except this man was younger, wore his hair different, and was dressed casually in jeans and flannel.

Two of the men in the room stared at the newcomer in shock, the third kept watching the interrogation room. As his eyes fell on to the scene in the room behind the two-way mirror, a frown settled on the man’s face.

“ Simon, what’s going on? Why is Blair in there and who’s the idiot questioning him?” Simon turned with a nod.

“Jim, allow me to introduce Chief Mannion, Chief of police for the D.C. metro area and Detective Page. Gentleman, allow me to introduce Lt. Detective James Ellison of the Cascade, Washington Major Crimes Division.”

With a barely perceptible nod, Jim turned back to Simon. Simon moved to a corner, indicating for Jim to follow. For a few moments, all that could be heard was a low whisper as Simon explained what was going on. Suddenly, a bellow that would have made Patton salute erupted from the corner.

“What? I need to apologize for calling this person an idiot! An idiot would be more intelligent!”

Striding, saying with every step, stay the hell out of my way, Jim left the room. Seconds later, the door to the interrogation room opened and Tsunami Ellison entered.

Blair looked at Jim with an expression of amazement.

“ I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Simon and I are both here, Chief.”

Turning to the other occupant of the room, Jim smiled and introduced himself. The two men carefully sized each other up. Surprise flicked across both men’s features as they took stock of each other. After a moment, Jim sat in an empty seat with a thoughtful look on his handsome face.

Cautiously, Blair asked Jim what was on his mind.

“Oh just thinking about how little D.C. has changed since I was here while in service. I didn’t get to see a lot of it, since I was usually here for classes. Did you know, Chief, there are over two hundred way to kill someone without it being discovered?” Jim answered casually while breaking a pencil that had been on the table into two pieces.

Looking at Captain Hunter and smiling, he stated regretfully “Nope. Neither of these is sharp enough.”

Amazed, Vince Hunter asked, “Did you just threaten me?”

“Of course not Captain! My goodness gracious me! I could get into so much trouble for that! Whatever are you talking about?” came the guiless reply.

Obviously delighted, Blair watched the two Alpha Males size each other up. He briefly wondered if he should try to step in or let the two of them go at each other until only one was standing. Both were displaying typical Alpha behavior, trying to gain or stay in control of the situation. Smiling, he decided not to let them know he had decided to be the one in charge.

“Jim, it’s OK. I don’t mind answering the Captain’s questions. Why don’t you just go hang with Simon for a few? I’m sure this will be over soon.”

Jim carefully checked Blair out using his senses. To the casual observer, it seemed as if he were quietly thinking over his partner’s request. Blair and Simon both knew better. Nodding after a little bit, Jim rose and left the room. He’d seen the smile on Blair’s face. He knew he didn’t want to be in the way of Mount Blair when it erupted.

“OK Captain. Where were we? Oh yes. You had a question about my integrity. Mistakes were made and publicly apologized for. Have you ever apologized for anything Captain? See, when I was invited here, I had YOU checked out. Tell me something Captain. Did you ever apologize to your wife for whatever you may have done that may have caused your, hmmm, marital difficulties?” asked Blair leaning forward to bore into the Captain’s eyes.

“Touché’” came the soft response. “However, I’m not the one under suspicion here am I?”

“No I suppose not. I don’t suppose it would do any good to tell you I know nothing of what Paul is up to. We’d gotten the notification of the stolen weapons, but unless things have changed in the last two days, none had turned up in Cascade. There was one in Seattle and one in Bellingham. Both are being handled by the individual departments involved. That’s all I know Captain.”

“Is it, Detective? Can you be trusted?” came the sharp reply.

For a moment, Blair thought he’d stopped breathing. As everyone watched, either face to face or behind the mirror, a myriad of emotions crossed his face. Bewilderment, fear, hurt, anger, sorrow, pain. All were reflected in a matter of seconds. Two of the men watching knew what was going through the Detective’s mind. The others wondered.

Jim knew. His face showing so much pain that Simon reached forward to grab his arm in a show of support. “Jim, he has got to be the one to handle this.” he stated quietly to the disturbed Lt. “ If he can’t, Hunter will make mincemeat of him. Do you understand me Jim?” Simon hissed when it looked as if Jim made a move to leave the room. “Sir, yes sir.” came a hard reply between gritted teeth.

For Blair, it was almost as if the room had disappeared. Logically, he knew the man in front of him was not Jim, Emotionally; he was thrown back to the bullpen with Jim telling him “I need a partner I can trust.”

Other words came flying out of the past to jolt him. “Be gone by the time I get back.” Other memories of being told to go for the brass ring, asking how he thought he could keep a Jim’s name out of the dissertation, accusations of calling Jim a coward, walking into an empty loft and seeing everything in boxes, of knowing Jim wanted his life pre-Sandburg back, reporters crowding around, people shot, people he loved and cared about, a career in ruins, a friendship he relied on as much as food and water almost destroyed by the word trust.

Memories flooded Blair. Painful, hurtful memories that in a few seconds took him to a place inside himself he had refused to acknowledge existed. A place of hurt, bewilderment. A place of anger. An anger he had never faced.

Once again, Hunter watched the display of emotion utterly fascinated. Every emotion showed and could be read as easily as a page in a book. Then, without warning the mask came back down.

For Chief Mannion, what was going on in the viewing room was as interesting as the event in the interrogation room. Whatever had triggered the display of emotions in Sandburg had affected his Captain and partner as well. Captain Banks once again wore a look of sorrow. The Lt. looked as if he were being totally destroyed by the grief on his face. Somehow the thought crossed Mannion’s mind that the only thing keeping the Lt. from breaking down was the presence of his Captain at his side. Mannion knew there was a story there, a story that probably only these three knew. A story, at that point, he determined to find out.

For Simon, thoughts of what Blair was feeling flittered through his mind. Thoughts of a time when so many lives had been thrown in turmoil, lives destroyed figuratively and almost literally. He knew though he had to stand strong, strong for the man beside him, strong for the man in the other room. Simon knew Jim still felt and would always feel enormous guilt over Alex Barnes and what he privately termed the “Diss mess”. Nothing anyone would say would ever change that. With a start Simon also realized neither Blair or Jim had ever talked about that time. He wondered uneasily if that were about to change in an interrogation room.

Jim felt as if he had gone a round with a seasoned boxer. Every muscle in his gut had clenched, as he knew what Blair was remembering. It hurt to breath. It hurt to think. It hurt to remember. Everything crystallized in his mind as if it were happening in real time. All the fear, the anger, and the hurt the two men had gone through. So many others had been caught in the periphery, he wondered how any of the people involved had survived, how he and Blair had survived, and would they survive it all being brought up again. A friendship he desperately had needed all of his life thrown at the door but not completely through it, a life lost, a life regained, an evil insanity that was the flip side of him, a fear of what he could have been, a press conference, an assassin. All of this flew through his mind at the speed of light.

“You haven’t answered the question Detective. Any day would be good. Can you be trusted?”

There was that word again. Trust. Such a small word thought Blair.

“You want to discuss trust, we’ll discuss trust.” came the answer in a voice so emotionless, so impassive, it almost didn’t seem human.

Mount Blair was going to erupt.

"Very well. How I can trust you are telling the truth? You’ve already admitted to a major fraud involving your university work. How do I know that what you’re telling me isn’t another? You say you know nothing about Paul Sondergard. How am I supposed to believe you?"

Once again, a familiar voice and face were questioning him. On the same issue as before.

Blair had never realized the amount of anger he had shoved so far down inside, he’d never really known it existed. Now he was aware. He’d never shown this anger to anyone, especially since he’d not seen it himself. Once again, there was silence in the two rooms, each person processing what was happening in front of them, trying to understand or deal with what was being displayed.

Blair had always been quick on his feet. In just a few seconds he had looked at what was happening, analyzed it, put a name to it, and decided on a course of action. While he knew he would never be able to express such anger to Jim, he felt it had to come out. He and Jim had worked so hard to rebuild their relationship, regain what had almost been destroyed. Blair believed that this anger he felt, if it led to a confrontation between him and Jim, Sentinel and Guide, partner and partner, it would result in a rift so wide, neither would survive. The separation would effectively destroy both of them. Sentinel and guide could not be separated.

Since he wouldn’t deal with his anger through Jim, perhaps he could deal another way.

If he couldn’t deal with Jim in anger, perhaps not Jim would suffice.

" Let’s discuss trust Captain. I made a mistake, but wasn’t the only one. More than one person contributed to the fiasco regarding my dissertation. Other people played a role as well. You weren’t there. People were dying, or had been seriously hurt. Something that was never ever to be released had been turned over to a third party. This third party intentionally released, out of context, parts of what was believed to be real, to the press to force me into publication. The press went into a feeding frenzy. There was an assassin on the loose. People were injured. Others unable to adequately do their jobs. I did what I felt was necessary to protect others. Not my greatest moment in the sun, not the best way to handle the situation, less grace than others, but I dealt with the problem as best as I could. What’s the old military equation? Assess, adapt, overcome? I assessed the situation, adapted a solution and got on with my life Captain. I did what I had to do. Are you going to tell me you’ve never once in your life faced a problem where your solution wasn’t the best one but the only one you could come up with? Congratulations, it must be nice being perfect in an imperfect world. How do you deal?

"I was out on the proverbial limb and the limb was breaking with no safety net below to break my fall. Did I err? You bet I did. Not alone though. Oh, I admit I came up the solution on my own, but on my own was where I was Captain. I did what I felt I had to do. No excuses. I will NOT apologize for my solution; I’ve already apologized for my mistakes. I accept responsibility for those.

"As for you Captain, whether or not you trust me is really of no importance. The reason? When I get up in the morning and look in my mirror, I like the person who I see standing there. I can deal with them. Don’t get me wrong; I know my faults and quirks better than anyone. I live with them inside me every day of my life. Overall though, that person I see in the mirror I can live with. I’ve made my mistakes, dealt with the consequences of those mistakes and learned to be comfortable in my skin. I like that person I see Captain. Can you say the same?"

Every word had spoken with the precision of a drill bit. Not once had Blair raised his voice in anger or distain, only with a coldness that was foreign to those who knew him. No pain or anger, only stark and brutal. By the time he was finished speaking, he was standing, leaning over the table looking directly into the eyes of the man in front of him.

If they hadn’t known the man they were watching, Jim and Simon weren’t sure they would have recognized him. The person in front of them had displayed a temperament no one would ever have associated with Blair Sandburg, neo-hippy, witch doctor punk turned detective. Both were shocked, but not surprised. Each had known in the back of their minds this had been coming and was long overdue. Each knew this would have to be dealt with, not now but soon.

Captain Hunter looked pole axed. For the first time in a long time, longer than he could remember, he was too stunned for words. Realizing he had underestimated the younger man in front of him, he sat quietly through the tirade unable to react.

Once again, Blair spoke. With a conversational tone he looked at the IA Captain.

"This interview is over. Since you really don’t anything to keep me here, I’ve extended enough courtesy to you and this department. I’ll be in tomorrow. Have my prisoner ready for transport."

Turning to leave the room, Blair found his way blocked by the towering IA Captain.

Blue eyes boring into his, he heard a soft voice tell him, "Several people have died because of these weapons. I don’t like that. If you are involved in this in any way Sandburg, I WILL personally take you down and it won’t be an easy landing."

For everyone involved, the scene was reminiscent of a gunfighter standoff in an old western. It was as if everyone were holding their breath waiting for one to draw first.

With a bemused smile, Blair walked around the Captain to the door. Holding the doorknob, he turned, looked at the Captain and simply stated, "I’ll see you tomorrow if you’re involved in my prisoner transfer." Teeth showing, the reply was a simple "Count on it."

With a small nod of his head, Blair walked out to his anxious friends who had moved into the hall to wait for him. Holding up his hand he merely stated "Not now", turned and started out of the building.

Cascade, Washington state is a large city. Close to a quarter of a million people live in the sprawling area among the huge trees and in the shadow of Mt. Rainier. Only one hour from the Canadian border, it’s busy and constantly moving. There are incredibly wealthy neighborhoods, wealthy neighborhoods, and all areas of middle class. Shopping centers and malls are within easy distance of those that want to be there. There are shops, theaters, museums, schools, symphonies, and any other sort of activity you could find in any large city in America. Its people work, play, learn and go about their daily lives with the same cares and concerns as any other city population. Taxes are paid, charities and institutions supported, elections held on schedule. Her people are for the most part law abiding, hard working family people,students, business owners etc.

Unfortunately not all. There are parts of Cascade where one doesn’t walk the streets at night unless life is at stake. If you must be out, you learn to keep your head down, don’t look at anyone, mind your own business and never, ever see anything. There are areas filled with alleyways, where as the old song says “The soul of a man is easy to buy.” Streets where anything legal or illegal is obtainable. Streets where windows are down and curtains closed even on the hottest, muggiest of summer days and night. Areas where most of Cascade refuses to acknowledge exists, or if acknowledged ignored. If ignored, perhaps they will go away.

Even more familiar with these areas than the people who live there are the people who come there to conduct business, business they don’t want to deal with in the light of days. Alleys, mazes, closed courtyards, abandoned buildings; old parks make this easy for those that want extreme privacy.

The three men who met in Winslow Park wanted such privacy. All had arrived in different cars from different directions. All would leave in different directions when their business was concluded. They knew even if seen, no one would say anything. You lived longer in this part of town if you kept your mouth shut, your eyes down and your opinions to yourself. Granted you aged faster, but you lived longer.

There were no preambles.

“How much is missing?”

“2 keys.”

“Find it, deal with the person responsible, or be held responsible. Take care of business.”

One man turned and left the other two looking uneasily in the direction he left and then at each other.

“OK. Now what do we do?”

“You heard the man. We take care of business. Meet me in two hours at Tony’s. Back room. And bring a list of our help. I ain’t dying ‘cause someone decided to be stupid.”

Within a few seconds the park was quiet as ever. There was nothing to show anyone had been there. Even the moon had hidden herself away.

Tony’s was a bar so familiar to police in Cascade, the bartender knew almost all them by last name without having to look at nametags. It was one of those places where, if there had been a problem, it was one of the first places you went. Tony’s allowed anything and everything as long as it got its share of the profits. It was old with creaky seats, Formica topped tables and dim lighting so business could be conducted without the person at the next table realizing what was happening right under their noses. Tony’s was like the Savoy in London during World War Two; it never closed.

Tony’s had private rooms in the back. Rooms you could rent by the hour or the day, cash up front. If you were a special customer, you got a room with no charge. Two hours later, two from the men from the park were one such room.

“I got the list. I think it might one of two people. Everyone else is ok. Whatcha want me to do?”

The second man handed the first a gun. A Glock 45, it was lightweight, easy to use and very, very deadly.

“I got this from out of town. I want you to talk to them. Find out who it is and then teach everyone down the line a lesson. Put the body where it can be found. We’re gonna send a message. We’re not gonna be the message.”

Again the two men left in different directions. Nothing remained behind to show they had been there, nothing to show a life would come to end very shortly.

Cascade continued.

Life in Appalachia can be rough. Poverty can be a way life from generation to generation. Medical care may be too far away to get to. If ill, you usually go to the oldest woman in the family for one of grandma’s cures. Babies are still born at home, outhouses still exist, running water and electricity are unaffordable or unavailable luxuries. Schooling can rarely last past 6th grade. Most kids are too busy helping grow crops, or doing other manual labor to help support their families to dream of more education. New shoes are a luxury for the eldest child when the school year begins, with the old shoes being passed down to the next child. Clothes come from the Salvation Army and boxes of food from charities. 13 year olds marry and have several children before being able to vote.

Billie McKuen had hated her life. Born in upper Appalachia, she had lived most of her short life in abject poverty. She’d been born into a family of “dirt farmers”, where the next meal was either home grown, hunted or non-existent. Sharing a room with three sisters, hand me downs, and no shoes in the summer had left her yearning for something better. After all, she just knew she had been born for better things. New clothes, her own room, plenty of food were the stuff of her dreams.

Billie was a pretty girl with large green eyes and long curling brown hair. The next to youngest child, she often felt ignored or forgotten. She often was. At thirteen Billie looked 16. At 15, she could pass for an adult.

At 15 ½, Billie ran away from home to look for her better life. No one reported her gone; after all, she was one less mouth to feed, one less body to cloth, one less to provide for.

Billie worked her way across the country bus stop by bus stop, taking odd jobs that paid under the table with no questions asked. Small diners, warehouses, pay everyday jobs sufficed until she had enough money for a ticket to her next place. Eventually, this became as old as what she was running from, so she made herself a promise. Wherever she was at on her 17th birthday that is where she would stay.

The day she turned 17, Billie arrived in Cascade. Deciding to make a new start, she called herself Sylvia Warner. “Just call me Sylvie.”

It didn’t take her long to find work, but what she found didn’t pay enough for her dreams and dreams are such precious things to not keep hold on. In a strange place, few friends, little money, Billie was lonely. So lonely that when a man named Jason Withers entered her life, she was more than willing to overlook the odd phone calls, strange hours, dangerous people to be in his company. Even better, Jason spent time and money on her, telling her not to worry. Soon she had begun to run small errands for Jason, small packages here, envelopes there, taking messages. Billie knew what was going on, but Jason gave her money. Not a lot, but enough to buy new clothes or shoes or have her hair done. Little things, small things, important things. Dangerous things.

“Sylvie” knew what was in the small packages she delivered in the small hours of the morning, knew there was money, lots of money in the envelopes, knew the messages arranged meetings and shipments. She didn’t care. She was careful, always did what Jason told her and never rocked the boat. After all Jason loved her, otherwise why would he spend time with her, money on her, take care of things for her?

People say money is root of all evil. The actual saying is love of money is the root of all-evil. “Sylvie” developed a real love for it. Enough so that when the opportunity presented itself, she stole 2 keys from Jason never dreaming she would be caught. As Jason told her before pulling the trigger of the Glock, “Hey, I care, but you gotta understand, business is business.” She never really felt the pain from the shots. She died too fast, too fast to understand what was happening.

The police blotter showed no calls at the time “Sylvie” died. No one would ever report or tell what they had seen or heard in a small alley in a dark part of the city.

Shortly afterwards, a car pulled away from a park in an area of town so part removed from where the violence had taken place as to be another planet. This area of town was the home of doctors, lawyers, places of position, wealth. “Sylvie” would have been happy here. Here, nannies walked younger children to school, stay at home moms carpooled the junior high kids and the high school students always got a brand new first car. A dead person found in the park by two women jogging just didn’t happen. It had.

As soon as the first patrol officer responded to the 911 and checked the scene, he called Homicide. Detectives Lewis and MacMillan responded, checked the scene, interviewed the two distraught women, asked their questions. Both were good capable detectives, who were very through in their jobs. It was difficult as there was no ID; the victim had never been fingerprinted. There were no missing persons reports. There was nothing for them to go on. The case would go “cold.”

That morning, Karen Stoddard was ready to scream. Muttering under her breath, “If that phone rings one more time…” she answered sweetly “Councilman Vickers office. How may I help you?” Several calls came in that morning from horrified citizens about the body found in the park. Most wanted to complain, to ask what was going to be done and how could this happen in this neighborhood? All were directed to the Councilman himself. All were pleasantly assured everything that could be done would be done. All but one. That caller merely told the Councilman his problem with an employee had been taken care of. There was nothing further to worry about. The Councilman was gratified as reelection was coming up and he was a busy man.

“Sylvie” was buried at taxpayers expense in a local cemetery in the area called “Potter’s Field”. There were no mourner, no tears, no one who would come forth to admit they had known the young woman. A minister and two gravediggers said good-bye, did their jobs and went home, soon forgetting the grave under the name Jane Doe.

The day of her death, a report crossed Detective Lewis’ desk. The murder weapon had been a Glock 45. It was a possible match for a similar weapon reported from the Washington, D.C. evidence locker as stolen. Since there was possible Federal involvement, Lewis took it to his Captain, Captain Peterson.

Captain Peterson had not worked her way up through the ranks by being stupid. As soon as she saw the report, knowing it was going out of her department, she walked up to the 7th floor and knocked on a door. Walking in, she simply asked, “Where’s Simon?” of Captain Taggert who was filling in. “He’s still in D.C. I’m not sure when he’ll be back. What’s the problem?”

"This.” she answered laying the report on the desk for him to see.

“Possible Federal involvement. Great. Just want we don’t need. Man, it’s not like we don’t have enough trouble of our own to contend with,” grumbled Joel.

“I know, but with this angle, and the possible politics, you know this is going to fall straight into Major Crimes lap. I’ll have my two detectives bring up all their reports plus the coroner’s. You know we’ll co-operate. My people don’t have the beef with Major Crimes some departments do.”

“Thanks Ellen. Believe me it’s appreciated. Guess I’d better call Simon since he’s already in Washington. This on top of everything else is really going to put him in a mood”

“What’s going on Joel? Why’s Simon in D.C.? He usually doesn’t handle a prisoner transfer. I thought he sent that new guy to take care of it.”

“He did, but there was a hitch. Nothing major.” Joel answered hastily.

Joel was an intelligent man, who often hid his intelligence behind a jovial personality. Most people took him to be a jolly giant, never recognizing the brain behind the smile. He’d long ago come to the conclusion that there was something up with Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg was involved in that something from the tip of his toes to the top of his curly head. Jim had always been the best in Major Crimes, but when teamed with Sandburg had turned into something phenomenal as far as solving cases went.

He’d always liked the curly haired anthropologist and went the diss mess came down; he’d put two and two together and came up with the correct answer of four. He wasn’t the only one. Many who had watched the duo over the years had come to the same conclusion as he had. Blair Sandburg had lied, but only at his press conference. As a result, most people who worked with them went out of their way to protect the two, silently and with Jim and Blair never realizing. Joel felt this was best.

After a couple of minutes, realizing she wasn’t going to get anything else, Captain Peterson mentally shrugged, told Joel she’d catch him later and left.

When Simon had left for Washington, he’d told Joel what was happening with Sandburg. Like Simon, Joel had been worried, outraged and very concerned. In Cascade, Blair had some protection. In Washington, he had precious little to none.

Reaching for the phone, he sighed. This was not a phone call he wanted to make. He knew Simon’s trip was about to get a lot worse.

Washington D.C. is cold this time of year. Freezing winds whip off the Potomac and winter skies bring snowstorms with wet days and even wetter colder nights. It’s a busy city. The seat of government of the people, for the people, by the people is concentrated here. A decision made here can literally change the world in a matter of hours. Movers, shakers, diplomats, politicians call the area home. Most don’t live in D.C. proper. Oh no, D.C. itself is too dangerous. The people of power prefer upscale Georgetown, quaint historic cities in Maryland or Virginia, or even to go as far as New York. Trains run almost 24 hours a day between the two cities with stops in between. Government employees get discounts when riding and the VIPs are guaranteed privacy in parlor cars or private rooms.

Crime is prevalent in the District. It has the nickname “The Murder Capital Of The Country”. Drugs, street gangs and poverty coexist along with the Washington Monument, The Jefferson Memorial, the Smithsonian and other places where tourists flock. Most tourists never see these areas. After all why visit the people here when you can go visit a politician who probably never leaves the area he or she has to be driven through to go back and forth on business. Chauffeurs, of course, would never make the kind of mistake that would take their employers through the “other areas”.

As a result, the District has a busy police force. Like any major city, it going strong 24 hours a day. People are being booked, released, transported to court or prison, questioned at any given moment. Officers are going in and out of buildings on business, appointments, shift changes, booking people, testifying.

And, like most major cities, the District has a busy Internal Affairs department. Good cops despise IA because they feel IA is out to get everyone, bad cops worry IA will catch them. Many who work IA feel a sort of pariah hood. Having once worked IA, you never are quite just one of the guys again. It always follows you. People tend to forget, cops are human too. They make mistakes, commit crimes and have to pay the penalty when caught. That’s the job of IA. They police the police.

Being in charge of IA is a bitch of a job. No one quite trusts you. Your motives, movements, even a casual word in a casual conversation are always a little suspect. Most people who work it hate it. Some thrive on it. Some feel IA has too much power; some just wait for another officer to make a mistake. Being suspicious is a requirement of the assignment. Few people request it. Most are assigned. Vince Hunter never asked for IA. Due to personal reasons, he’d at one pointing his career requested an immediate transfer. The only spot available was IA. He took it. It had turned out he was good at it. He became the Captain in charge.

People who knew him as Captain felt he was a cold hearted, calculating, arrogant creature who cared less about people than getting the job done by any legal means possible. He’d learned to lie and manipulate. He really didn’t care that he was called the dark side of the force and that it wasn’t because Star Wars was a favorite movie. He did his job very efficiently and ran IA as a tightly controlled hard working department.

The flip side of the equation was that cops knew if IA caught them into something illegal, they were firmly caught. If IA showed up and arrested you, chances were incredibly high the evidence would result in a conviction. The department had one of the highest conviction rates in the District. Their cases were rarely overturned on appeal. You weren’t arrested until Hunter knew he had you six ways from Sunday, and it would possibly take an act of Congress for you to get off. He did his job and did it well. He honestly felt one bad cop made all look bad. He often stated if a clerk was lousy at their job, you didn’t despise all clerks. Let a cop screw up and everyone said see they’re all guilty. He did his job thoroughly because he felt it was a job that needed to be done that way.

He had listened to all the buzz about the super cop, had taken a lot of teasing from those that dared about how much he and his Washington state counter part looked alike, listened to the press conference, shrugged and forgot about it. Then the name had come up in an investigation. Blair Sandburg. An admitted fraud allowed to go to the police academy and then straight to Detective. No waiting time, no probation, no rotations. Just straight to pass go and collect two hundred dollars. How? How did one go from a national fraud to detective? Why did it go this way? Who was responsible? What or who did Sandburg know? It was an unsolved jigsaw puzzle and Hunter really hated unsolved puzzles. Everything needed to fit together smoothly with no jagged edges. Blair Sandburg was a jagged edge.

He’d waited in the transfer area for the three men from Cascade to come for their prisoner. He stood in a corner of the room, out of the way but where he could watch and catalogue everything that happened. Of course, making sure the three men knew he was there observing didn’t bother him in the least.

When the three men entered, the people handling the transfer didn’t notice a problem, but the IA Captain did. None of the three would look at the others. None looked as if they had slept well. All had lines of stress around their moths and eyes. Sandburg kept running his fingers through his hair, Ellison looked like he was going to strain a jaw muscle and Banks looked like her wanted to beat his fists on something or someone…interesting.

Suddenly, like a cat tensing to pounce, he noticed Ellison look in the corner where he stood. Quietly watching, he waited patiently for the other man to cross the room to where he was.

“Captain.”

“Lieutenant.”

Both were civil. Both were calm. Both were ready to symbolically go to war.

Everything and everyone in the room ceased to move. People began to mentally take bets on the outcome of this confrontation because that is what it clearly was. Both men ready, willing and able; neither ready to back down.

“Tell me Captain, is it procedure for IA to be interested in a simple prisoner transfer? I would have thought you would’ve been to busy taking caring of other things, like what you’re supposed to be taking care of, instead of idly standing around here waiting for ink to dry.”

“You flatter me Lieutenant. I have a lot of interests, a lot of curiosity. I like to keep on top of things. You never know what you might find discover, what someone may be hiding. You underestimate me. People do have a bad habit of doing that. Usually, they only do it once. Most never have the opportunity to do it again. Thank you for your concern though.”

“Concern Captain? No, not concern. That would imply I have an interest in your welfare; that there is a connection between us. I don’t think enough of you to show concern.”

“Perhaps you’ll get the opportunity to know me better Lieutenant. You never know where circumstances may take you or with who.”

“Remember Captain that goes both ways.”

Simon was debating whether to slap his detective or write a commendation when he saw Ellison walk back across the room. Watching the two men was frightening. It was like looking at mirror images of the same person. Idly he wondered if the two were related. Finally deciding Jim was a big boy and could take care of himself, he picked up the final paperwork just in time to hear his cell phone go off.

Handing the papers to Blair, responded with his usual gruff “Banks! Joel what’s going on?”

Within a few seconds, everyone could tell Simon was upset. His body language screamed don’t touch, his tone of voice yelled “I’m ticked; back off!”

All he said was “Joel, open my second desk drawer and put it in there. I’ll deal with this when we get back.” There was nothing to indicate what was being said on the other end of the conversation. Suddenly, in a clipped tone of voice, Simon said ”Joel. Put. It. In. The. Second. Drawer. Of. My. Desk. NOW!”

Clicking off the cell phone, he glared around. “Are we done here?”

Came Hunter’s voice sardonically out of the background “For the moment, Captain Banks, for the moment.”

As the three men took charge of their prisoner and turned to leave, Hunter caught Sandburg’s eye. The mask was back in place, leaving him unable to read the younger man. With a predatory smile he knew made his point, he let Sandburg know without saying a word the two of them weren’t finished if he had his way.

Moving from the corner he walked out with the group from Cascade prompting Simon to ask “An escort, Captain?”

“Well we wouldn’t want anyone to get lost or lose their way now would we Captain Banks? Its such a pain when little lambs leave and get lost from the fold isn’t it?"

Chief Mannion meet the group near his office. His curiosity had also been aroused by questions about the group leaving the building.

“ Captain Banks, Detectives. If there are any further developments in our case we’ll let you know. “

Looking at his own Captain and Detective Ellison, he finally had to ask the question everyone wanted an answer to “Are you two related in any way? I mean, you look exactly alike.”

Jim shrugged his shoulders. Answering he stated, “I don’t know, Sir. I think I’ll check with my father when I get home. He tends to keep up more with that sort of thing than I do.”

Just before they walked out the door to catch their ride to the airport, Jim turned to the two men still watching them. “ I do take exception with one thing, Sir. We may resemble, but there are differences. I AM younger and I do have more hair.”

Turning, he opened the door and they left the building. Behind them the two men were left with their mouth hanging open, shock on their faces and the sounds of people trying really hard not to laugh out loud. Most were not succeeding in their efforts.

It was a tense group that left Ronald Reagan International airport for the Pacific Northwest later that afternoon. The flight was routine, nothing unusual to report. A late lunch was served with passengers having a choice of chicken or beef. The movie was insipid, with little to no plot. People talked quietly amongst themselves over mundane things like the weather, was the flight on time, what landmarks were being flown over. All in all, the attendants thought a calm flight.

The only exceptions had been the group of four men sitting in the back of the plane. There was little to no communication. Interaction between the four men had been economical. If one hadn’t known they were traveling together, one would never have guessed. The men hadn’t been sullen with one another, just differential with a politeness that would have bordered on the comical if it weren’t for the taut expressions that accompanied each man across the continent.

By the time the flight arrived five hours later in Cascade, the group was beyond tired. Bone weary, physically and mentally, would have been much more accurate. Each was lost in their thoughts. Each lost within their emotions.

Delivering and booking the prisoner was a quick task. He was uncuffed, fingerprinted, had his property itemized, photographed, clothed and housed before the hour was up. That was the easy part of the trip.

The three men quietly made their way to the seventh floor. Entering Major Crimes, they weren’t surprised to see several friends and co-workers still busy at their desks. Phones were ringing, keyboards clacking, people coming and going, comments being tossed around the room. Everything looked exactly as it had several days ago, but still each of the three knew something had changed. What they weren’t exactly sure, but each knew past and present were about to collide and three of them would never be the same.

As Simon entered his office, he motioned Joel Taggert to follow him. A very worried looking Joel complied after giving Jim and Blair a quick glance. Both men noticed, looked at each other and shrugged. Both sat down and went to work on the stack of files on their desks knowing that when it was time, they would find out what exactly was going on. Both also knew they probably didn’t want to know.

When Simon called them into his office, both were surprised to see over thirty minutes had passed. Entering quietly, both were directed into seats in front of the Captain’s desk. Joel was still present, still wearing a worried look.

Simon thought of the aspirin bottle in his desk, decided his headache wasn’t that bad, yet, and looked at the two men sitting in front of him. With a sigh, he announced, “Gentlemen, we have a problem. You Sandburg, and by extension Jim, are right in the middle of it.” Saying nothing more, he removed a folder from his second drawer, passing it first to Jim. Reading the folder quickly, Jim ran a hand over his tired eyes, said a few words his father probably didn’t know he knew and passed the folder to Blair.

As Blair read the folder, everyone could see the tension increasing in his face. Laying the folder aside, he looked at Simon and stated, “I don’t know anything about this Captain, sir. I was gone when this murder apparently took place as you are well aware.”

“First of all Sandburg, even if you were to tell me you had hired the person who killed this woman, I wouldn’t believe you. I know you too well to know you would be involved in something like this. Secondly, I do consider you a friend. I may not always act like it, but I do trust and respect you. I didn’t at first, but I want you to know that I would and have trusted you with my life or the lives of anyone else any day of the week. Are we clear on this?”

As Simon spoke, tension began to drain out of the younger man’s shoulders. “Thank you Simon. That counts.”

Before he could finish, Joel spoke up. “Blair there isn’t anyone who doesn’t trust you in this department. After watching what you did to protect Jim, don’t you think the majority of us care about you? Trust you? Respect you? We may not show it, but we do.”

As Joel finished speaking, both Blair and Jim had turned to look at him in shock.

Smiling, the other man continued. “Blair, we may not be the sharpest knives in the drawer, but most of us can add two and two and come up with a correct answer of four. People who know you are proud of you.”

After a moment, Joel laughed. “Well, what do you know? I made Sandburg speechless! Do I get an award?”

“No.” quipped Simon, “But you do get to teach everyone else a class on how to do it!”

As the four men chuckled, the tension in the room dropped away. Suddenly Blair straightened up. “Everyone knows? Then I didn’t protect Jim. I failed.”

“WRONG!’ Everyone jumped as the normally calm Joel slammed his hand down on Simon’s desk. “OK, people know. Has it made a difference? Has anyone told you that what you did was useless? Has anyone told you it was futile? You had to leave the university, yes. You lost some so called friends, those same people’s respect, a possible future career.”

Without missing a beat, he continued "Blair have you ever taken the time to really look at what you’ve gained? You help people. Help them at a time when life for them is at the very lowest it may ever be. You give them hope that someone cares and will do something. People, complete strangers depend and trust you to help, to heal, to lead. Isn’t that what a guide is supposed to do? Isn’t that the real calling you were meant for in this life? Are you so sure you were should deny that? Blair, don’t you realize you have become the very thing you searched for? You have become a guardian. You protect the entire city by protecting Jim and given the way he drives, that’s more than enough for any one person to have to do on occasion.”

Grinning wryly, Jim spoke up. “Sheesh. A couple of minor accidents and everyone’s a critic.”

“Minor!” answered the other three in the room. “Jim laughed. “Great, now I have stereo.”

As the men relaxed, Blair turned to Joel and smiled his thanks.

As he turned back to Simon, Jim caught his eye and in a low tone, told him, “You and I still have to talk.”

Nodding his agreement, Blair turned to Simon. “OK what do I do now?”

“You do nothing Sandburg. I, on the other hand, am having all this information, along with the evidence, turned over to D.C. Metro. At this point it’s out of our hands. I’m sorry Blair, but I have the feeling you are not quite rid of Captain Hunter yet. Now, I want the two of you to go home and rest. Tomorrow is a busy day.”

Watching the two men walk out of the bullpen, Simon sighed. He turned to Joel. “Joel I want everything ready and sent by courier tomorrow. All reports, evidence, lab work. Everything. This had to be done by the book. No mistakes allowed.”

“Simon, what is going to happen?”

“I wish I knew Joel. I wish I knew. All I know for sure is things are only going to get worse. Why can’t those two catch a break?”

“Simon, if those two caught breaks, they would never be who they are. Would we, or could we do without them any other way?”

Without waiting for an answer, Joel walked out of the office, leaving a very quiet Simon with some very quiet thoughts.

Once again, the elevator was out at 852 Prospect. For a moment, the two men both wondered if the climb was worth it, or if it would be easier to go someplace, any place else for the night. Eventually, both climbed up the three flights of stairs to 307. Walking in both preformed a familiar ritual. Coats were removed, hung up, shoes place carefully in regular spots after being taken off, keys tossed into a basket.

Tired beyond belief, Jim asked, “Pizza, Chinese, or Thai?” before heading to the sofa to sit down and sprawl.

Right behind him, Blair shrugged. “Whatever is easiest, fastest and cheapest. It’s your turn to buy.”

“Arm wrestle for whoever has to order?”

“No way man! I have this thing about pain and humiliation. I don’t like them!” chuckled his partner.

Food was ordered by cell phone. That way, no one had to get up. Both sat quietly for a few minutes, neither one unsure of what to say or do next; each knowing they would have to eventually discuss what had happened in D.C. It was a topic both wished to avoid, but both knowing they couldn’t.

By unspoken agreement, nothing was said until after dinner arrived. Both men ate slowly as if trying to prolong the discussion ahead. Leftovers were refrigerated, dishes washed, seats resumed.

Gently, Jim looked at the man he regarded as his best friend and asked, “You didn’t realize how angry you really were did you?”

Sighing, Blair replied,” No I didn’t. I guess I’d hidden it and pushed it down for so long I was able to tell myself it didn’t exist. If I didn’t acknowledge it, it wasn’t real. If it wasn’t real, I didn’t have to deal with it.”

“If it makes a difference, I don’t think it was residual anger from what happened before. I think it was seeing someone who looked so much like you accusing me of, well the same things. It was almost like a flashback. All I could see or hear was being told you needed a partner you could trust and all the garbage that went along with the diss.”

“Sandburg, you really don’t lie well especially to yourself. That type of anger is residual, or it wouldn’t have produced the results it did. Simon or I could hardly recognize you. You were angry and still are. The question is what do we do about it?”

“We?”

“Yeah, Sandburg. We. We both made a promise to never let things between us again if it could be avoided. This can’t be avoided. We have to deal with it and deal with it before we have to deal with D.C. IA again.”

“Please, talk to me.”

As Jim watched Blair he could see him literally pulling his thoughts together, much as he did when he had prepared lecture notes. Back when. Back before.

Finally Blair spoke. “Yeah I guess there is anger there. I never, never thought you would have believed I would just lay aside a valued friendship that way. I mean, I can understand with Alex. I don’t like it. After all, the sentinel from hell did kill me. And, no, it’s not your fault. Alex had decided I had to die. If she hadn’t gotten me at Rainier, she would have gotten me some place else. Where didn’t matter. She wanted me dead. It could have been coming out of the station, at the library, the grocery store or a parking lot. Her killing me was a done deal. It was everything afterwards I think I have trouble with. I died and you protected my killer. You almost became her lover. I know it was a “carry on the genetics” thing, but I was so furious, I almost think I could have killed you myself. What was going through your head anyway? Where you even thinking with the head on your shoulders? How could you have done that? How could you have protected her?”

As Blair spoke, he became more and more agitated. Jim, monitoring him heard his heart rate soar and blood pressure rise. He heard the increased breathing and watched as Blair rose to walk agitatedly about the loft’s living room. He said nothing. Blair needed this. Jim would give it to him.

“I really didn’t know whether to worry about you or punch your lights out. I tried to think everything was going to be ok, but a part of me was terrified I would never leave Sierra Verde except in a coffin. I watched you struggle with everything and felt helpless. That’s not a feeling I enjoy. I felt so useless. Do you know, even though you asked my help on the beach, it wasn’t till we left the temple that I honestly felt safe. Physically safe, but I didn’t feel safe with you any more. That was as frightening as dying almost. The one constant I’d had for years had been pulled from under me like the proverbial rug. I think in that time I actually hated you. And I was angry with you for making me feel that way. I was angry with myself for feeling like that. That was the lowest I’d ever been in my life.”

Sitting silently, Jim motioned for Blair to continue.

“We’d barely gotten over that, if we had, when along came Sid the Slime. After all those years of working with me, trusting me to help you continue to develop and maintain control of this marvelous gift of yours, making sure you had back up, making sure someone was with you at all times if possible, doing all I could to protect and help you and you suddenly thought I’d do something that sneaky, under handed and harmful to you. That was as low as you could have hit below the belt Jim. I felt like I was free falling and there wasn’t a safety net to catch me. Everything I was, my integrity, my honesty, my very self was under attack by you. I had trusted YOU, and I felt you had let me down. We’d been through a lot Jim, but I had never had a reason to doubt you. Suddenly, I doubted everything. Even worse, I doubted myself. Not only was I a liar but a user and cheat as well. Within the space of a couple of days I had lost my friend, my home, my job, a career I’d spent half of my life working towards, but people who had known me for years turned their backs on me. People I thought I could depend on no longer wanted to be associated with a fraud. God, I hated that term! Simon and Megan had been shot, Major Crimes looked like it had been through a war, and you were injured. My life was gone. Everything that had been my foundation had disappeared. I’d never felt more alone or lost in my life.’’

As Blair had continued to speak, he had continued to pace around the room. When he had finished for the moment, he came and sat in front of Jim.

Speaking softly, he asked, “Why?”

As Blair had spoken, Jim had allowed memories to surface. He could see the events Blair was speaking of as if they were actually happening now. He could remember the sense of betrayal he’d felt when he realized Blair had worked to help Alex. He could remember his want of her, his fear and sorrow at Blair’s death. His sense of feeling responsible. He could still feel the sense of vengeance he’d wanted for Blair after feeling free of Alex. Harmful, hateful words, spoken in anger came rushing back. A sense of being in a box with the lid closing in on him returned. A feeling of being trapped.

Fear of failure had always been a strong motivating factor for James Ellison. Fear of disappointing his father, fear of failing those he was responsible for, fear of failing to protect the people of Cascade. Fear of himself, the worst and strongest fear of all. Jim knew fear kept him going, striving to do better. He also knew his fear had cost him. There had been no higher cost than the loss of the man sitting across from him waiting patiently for answer. An answer he knew Blair Sandburg deserved. An answer he would try to give. God help him if he gave the wrong answer now.

Silence settled over the loft. It wasn’t a silence of no speaking, but rather a silence of anticipation. Blair knew Jim would answer, but needed time to comprise his thoughts. He was more than willing to give that time. This was too important to both of them to rush now.

After a long silence, Jim raised his head, looked at Blair and nodded.

“You deserve an answer and I swear I’ll try to give it to you. Just please understand I don’t have your way with words. OK? I promise I’ll do my best.” A long sigh. “Blair, what were you ever responsible for before you met me? What else besides yourself did you have to be in charge or take care of? I’m not referring to things, but people. Outside of yourself who where you responsible for?”

Blair frowned. “No one really. I mean I was with Mom, but she was the adult. She made the decisions about everything until after I started Rainier. After that I guess I was responsible for myself. I had responsibilities, but they were to other people, not for other people.”

Nodding, Jim responded. “My life was totally different. When I was small I was responsible for Steven. He was younger, so my parents, then later my dad told me I had to take care of him. Set an example. Make sure nothing bad ever happened. As I got older, I had a responsibility to the family name. Never embarrass the family. Remember I was an Ellison. Remember who I was and who my family was. Name and position were everything, especially after mom left. We had it drilled into us we has a duty to uphold the family honor. Do not deviate. No matter how old I’ve gotten, I still hear the old man’s voice in the back of my head reminding me who I am supposed to be. It’s never gone away. I tried to ignore it, but never have been quite successful.”

“After leaving home and going into the army, nothing changed. When I became an officer, I had the responsibility of every single person of lower rank than me on my hands. I literally had to make decisions of life and death. Sometimes, I had to choose whom to go on a mission knowing the percentage of men not expected to return. I literally had to decide who might live and who might die. I did send people to their deaths. I sent them knowing they wouldn’t return. I went out knowing I might not return. There were times I shouldn’t have come back. It was only by beating the odds that I did. I still don’t know why I’m alive today. I shouldn’t be.”

“In Peru, I had picked the men on my team. I had decided who was going and who wasn’t. They were my responsibility. As their commanding officer, I killed them. I know, I know. Colonel Oliver sat us up, but in the end, their deaths were on my hands. Even today, I can close my eyes and make out every detail of their faces. If I was an artist, I could draw them to exact detail. My command, my duty, my responsibility and ultimately my failure. Whether true or not, that is my belief.”

“When I left the army and became a cop, I changed one set of responsibilities for another. Instead of military personnel, suddenly I had an entire city whose safety I was charged by law, by tradition, by belief to protect and serve at all cost. Again, life and death decisions everyday. Every day I put on my badge and gun and went out to another type of war. Every day I knew someone’s life might be in my hands. I might have to make the decision of killing or not to kill. I might have to save a life by taking another. I accepted this. I’ve never liked it. No good cop does. If they do, they’re a danger and need to be gotten rid of.”

Quiet reigned for a few moments. Blair said nothing, almost mentally willing his friend to continue. In this single conversation, more of Jim Ellison was being revealed than he had ever anticipated knowing. And perhaps, Jim needed this as much as he did.

After a while Jim continued. “Blair, when you and I met, how did I seem to you? Angry? Out of control? Irritated?”

At Blair’s reluctant nod, Jim smiled and went on. “I was none of those Blair. I was terrified. I had lost a killer who was making what they were doing personal. I couldn’t eat or drink anything without being ill. Everything hurt. Even a simple act like brushing my teeth caused agony. I was constantly sick to my stomach from the smells around me. My clothes either itched or burned. I couldn’t sleep during the day because I couldn’t get it dark enough, or at night because of the noise. I was lucky to get 2 hours of sleep a day. I’d run every morning into the woods behind the park. I’d get a couple of miles in and then spend a half hour screaming at the top of my lungs for everything to stop. I’d scream until I couldn’t any more and then come back and go to work. I saw doctor after doctor. Nothing physical they said. It was stress. I had to threaten to quit to get a day off to go to the hospital to see a specialist. That’s where we met.”

“I thought I was insane. I decided to go to the office on the card you gave me when Dr. McCoy told me there wasn’t anything he could do for me except recommend a stay on the psych ward. Blair, I had already written my will, taken care of my personal affairs. I had decided if the man on the card couldn’t help me, I was going to come home and end it all. I had every intention of killing myself. Actually, having made that decision, I felt calmer that I had in weeks.”

Blair sat quietly. During all of this, what amazed him was how calmly Jim was talking. There was no anger, or irritation about these things, rather a sort of self-deprecation. There was almost a sense he was referring to someone else in the conversation. At the voiced thought of Jim deciding on suicide, he made the first sound he’d made since Jim had started talking. It was a sharp intake of breath, a sound of pain.

Jim raised his hand and ran it through his hair. “ I took a chance and went to meet you. I was not expecting the person who had been in the hospital room. I felt you’d lied to me and I wanted to know why and what you wanted. Suddenly, I’m confronted by something that sounds like it was right out of the Brothers Grimm. Why should I listen? When I left your office, I honestly believed life was over. I was on my way home to end my life when you saved it. You have no idea how much I love garbage trucks!”

“You were able to give me a reason for what was happening to me. I wasn’t a freak or insane. But, everything, EVERYTHING, you told me went again all I had been taught to believe all my life. I wasn’t in charge of my life or what happened to me. I wasn’t in control of who and what I was. It was genetic and I didn’t have a choice in the matter. No choice, no option, no hand in the decision. This was mine and I didn’t want it. I wanted my life, as I had always known it back. I didn’t ask for this. I wanted these senses that had made me so miserable as a child gone.”

“Unfortunately, that also meant in the back of my mind I wanted you gone. Not literally, but god help me Blair, you were a reminder of all I had lost. I lost control of my life, my self-perceptions, and my identity. Everything I knew or believed about myself was ripped from me and I resented that. I hated it. I hated my life and everything in it.”

“I felt a failure. I’d failed my brother, my father. I’d failed in my life. I’d failed my marriage. All I had was my job and at that time, I was failing at that. Now, suddenly, I was a failure as an ordinary person. I didn’t want to be unique. I didn’t want to be different. I just wanted my life left alone, as it had been. Now I was being told too bad what I wanted and needed. Too bad for me. I was worn out with circumstances beyond my control.”

There was a tone of tired bitterness Blair never recalled hearing from Jim before. Or had he, thought Blair rather guiltily, wondering if he had and merely ignored it. How much of this bitterness was self directed, how much directed at him?

“I had to tell Simon. Blair, no one got into my personal life. Suddenly, a complete stranger was sitting with my Captain, detailing things about me I didn’t understand. Once Simon saw what I could do with these senses, he seemed to feel as if I could solve anything. No matter what came along, just pull out the old senses, Jimbo, and catch the crook! He doesn’t know he did, and still does it, but every time he did I felt like I should be in a sideshow at a carnival somewhere, listening to a barker yell at people to buy their tickets. I didn’t know who I was anymore. Even worse, I didn’t know what I was anymore.”

By this time, Jim’s voice had dropped almost to a whisper. “I finally got it through my Neanderthal head, the only way to survive this was to lean on you. Because of how I am and always have been, I couldn’t let you see that. I’ve never been able to admit to needing anyone. I’d always been taught it was a sign of weakness. In my life, I’d never been able to afford that. So, I was afraid to let you see how much I did depend on you. Others saw it though. Simon, Joel, even Carolyn saw I needed you. That scared me. You scared me, so I pushed you away. I felt ashamed at what I saw as a flaw in me. “

Deep darkness had fallen over Cascade by this time. With the sure footedness he’d had all his life, Jim got up and turned the lamps on. He didn’t need them, but he wanted Blair to see his face. He wanted Blair to see the truth in the words he was saying. He wanted Blair to understand so much it was almost a physical pain for him.

Returning to the sofa, Jim looked at his hands for a moment before continuing. “When Alex showed up, I didn’t understand what was happening to me. Everything had gone haywire. I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know what. How could I tell you when I didn’t understand myself? As far back as the trip to Clayton Falls, I felt trouble coming at us like a freight train I couldn’t stop. My concentration was off. I had trouble sleeping. It was like something was constantly in the back of my mind, but if I tried to see it, it would disappear. All at once, it had a name. Alex Barnes. There was a tangible, concrete thing I could deal with. Well, gee. Guess what jimmy? Once again, good old genetics was in the saddle. I wanted to hurt, no kill an interloper in my territory. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t know how. You paid for my lack of knowledge Blair. I’ve never forgiven myself. I can’t.”

“You were dead. I did CPR, screamed at the EMTs and begged you to come back. My fault. My stubbornness, my fear, my ego caused your death. I had to fix it. I promised god anything to bring you back. I’ve never forgotten a minute of that morning. When I did CPR, I could actually taste you. It was overlaid with a taste of chlorine. I still taste it in my mouth even today. Toothpaste, mouthwash, nothing has ever been able to remove it. Psychological maybe, I don’t know. Maybe a form of self-punishment? Possibly. Part of me was angry with you. I felt you’d been a Benedict Arnold and helped the enemy. I felt betrayed, deceived and lied to again.”

“Then, as if the roller coaster wasn’t looping enough, I couldn’t keep my hands off your killer. It was like being outside myself watching me and screaming, “What are you doing!?!” Well, good for me! Genetics at work again. Hallelujah and amen! Pass the collection plate.”

The self-loathing, almost hate in Jim’s voice made Blair’s heart ache. He had never realized how much Jim was angry with himself. He’d never realized the pain both of them had been in. He wished he could make Jim stop, but he knew both of them had to get this all out. Sometimes, he wished he’d never taken psychology classes, much less minored in it. He understood, better than most, how the mind worked. How the upbringing of a child made the adult. He understood this adult still had a hurt child to deal with. He wanted to comfort that child, but right now the child needed to talk. He would wait.

Jim continued. He knew everything had to be said. “We got through that physically, but I was never able to say how sorry I was. I am so sorry Blair. I hurt you in a horrible way and couldn’t even tell you how much I hated that I had done that. I was afraid you’d never be able to forgive me. If I never said I was sorry, you couldn’t tell me that.”

At this point, Jim Ellison was doing something that no one except the man in front of him would have ever believed he was capable of. He was crying as if he’d been saving up all of his tears all of his life for this moment. He began rocking back and forth, still talking as if he would never be able to stop.

“I was afraid to let you close again. It was like that song: “I am a rock, I am an island. And a rock feels no pain and an island never cries.” So when the dissertation happened, I struck out. I didn’t want to hurt anymore, so I hurt first. I was terrified. You had everything you could have ever wanted. Like everyone I’d ever cared about in my life, you’d leave me. If I pushed you away, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much when you left. Childish I know. Part of me was so proud of you and for you. Part of me wanted to scream don’t leave, but couldn’t.”

“Then you did something that I’d never believe anyone would ever do. You gave everything for me. I didn’t know whether to be relieved that I was safe, angry with you for giving up, or guilty because you had done what you did. Once again, you’d been hurt and it was my fault. I wanted to do something, anything. I didn’t know what. How did I fix this one? How did I fix us? You had lost it all. Then Simon decided to get you a badge. We had to go to the chief and give him a demonstration of why I needed you to help me. He was shocked, but was so delighted to have the “only known living sentinel on my police force” I think he would have done anything to keep me here. I know that is never what you wanted Blair. I know that. Once more, you’d been backed into a corner and I’d been the one to put you there.”

Suddenly, a low bitter chuckle came from Jim. “I could taken on terrorists, thieves, killers, but I couldn’t take care of my best friend. God, Blair, if I’m your best friend, what kind of enemies have you made throughout your life? What happened to your karma for you to get stuck with me?”

Burying his face in his hands, still crying, Jim went on as if an exorcism was being performed. “I promised myself, when you went to the academy, I would be a better friend to you. I promised myself I’d take care of you. I’d keep you from harm. I’d do everything I could to be the friend you deserve. God knows you deserve better than I’ve done.” A moment of deep silence.

“Answer me a question Blair. Why do you stay? Why, Blair?”

For several years, Blair himself had asked that very question every time something had gone wrong. He realized he’d never really answered this most complex of questions. A question that had in reality determined who he was, what he was, and why he was. He wondered if he could answer or even if he knew the answer. Looking at the man in front of him, he knew he had to try for both of them. Gathering his thoughts, he began to speak.

“All of my life, I’ve been a searcher. I searched for new places, new experiences. I wanted to see the world, to study and explore it. I loved traveling to new places, meeting new people and doing new things. It was my life. It was my existence. It was literally my reason for being. Jim, I’ve been all over the world. I’ve been places no other explorer has. I’ve seen and done things no other person outside the tribes themselves had ever taken part in. Still, I kept searching. I never knew or questioned why.”

“One day, I read a book. Of all the thousands of books I’d ever read, I couldn’t forget this one. It was like it had lodged itself so deep inside me; I couldn’t get rid of it even if I wanted to. I didn’t want to. I was 12 years old and suddenly had a sense of destiny. I knew sentinels; I knew you were out there. I was going to find you. I thought it was going to be a research project. Maybe then, the itch I’d felt since I was 12 would finally be scratched. I was on a journey I didn’t even know I’d started.”

“I found myself studying the most obscure facts, reading the most obscure books looking for something. I didn’t know what it was. All I knew it was out there waiting for me. Whatever it was, I wanted it so badly, it defined who I was. Some had called it an obsession. For me, it had become a need. I had to find you.”

“I got accepted at Rainier. I had been accepted at Yale and Harvard both. 9 other universities wanted me. I picked a rather obscure school and shocked everyone. I didn’t know why I wanted Rainier. I just did. I HAD to be here!”

“I spent more time here in Cascade than I’d ever spent anywhere in my life. I was here almost half of it. I’d never wanted permanence. Suddenly, it was a way of existing for me. I still was looking for that elusive something. I just didn’t realize it. I thought I wanted knowledge, experience. I was, but it wasn’t to continue with my studies. I was waiting. I was waiting for you. I was waiting for my sentinel. I was waiting to be the guide I now know I was and am supposed to be. Not just a guide, but your guide.”

Looking almost haunted, Blair moved to sit beside his friend. “Do you have any idea how terrifying that was for me? I’d always just picked up and left. No strings or attachments. Suddenly, I was involved in something I couldn’t walk away from. I knew almost from the beginning I couldn’t leave. I just refused to admit it. So I told you I didn’t want to be involved, just observe. I didn’t want to back you up. I didn’t want to enter your world. Once I did, I knew I’d never be able to leave.”

Now Blair was sprawling on the sofa.

“I knew you were afraid. I was too. I could feel the trap closing, but part of me really wasn’t trying to escape. I couldn’t tell you what I couldn’t tell myself. I tried to be a friend, partner, and confidant. I denied what I was. I was getting in deeper and deeper. I resented that.” With a smile, he noted, “Isn’t it amazing how much alike we really are?”

Continuing, Blair went on. Neither man noticed the time or the darkness outside. Both were working to bring the light back into each other and themselves. Without knowing, both men had reached out and grabbed the other’s hand.

“By the time Alex came along, everything I’d tried to repress was coming out. I knew I couldn’t let you face her alone once I realized what she was and the danger she represented. As your guide, as a guide, she was my responsibility also. Looking back, I think I knew she wouldn’t allow me to live. How could she? I represented what she didn’t have. Like a selfish child, what she couldn’t have, she destroyed. If she couldn’t pitch, she’d take her ball and bat, go home and not allow anyone else to play. Also, when I looked at her, I saw what might have happened to you. I absolutely was not going to allow that!”

“Yeah I was mad. I was hurt. I tried to and do understand what was going on with the two of you. That doesn’t mean I had to like it. I’m only human and I hurt. I wanted to beat you within an inch of your life and main the remaining inch. I wanted you to hurt as much as I did. I wanted you to suffer along with me. I couldn’t though. You’re too important to me. Please understand I’m not a masochist. But, I was involved in something I couldn’t ignore. I had to be here. I had to help. It’s who and what I am. I can’t and wouldn’t change that. If I did, I would be useless to everyone. I’d not be myself. That was the most difficult thing I’d ever had to do in my life. I had to accept what I was. I am a guide. I believe everything in my life led me to that.”

“When the dissertation mess happened, we hadn’t really recovered from the Alex mess. Both of us were still reeling from that. I honestly think we would have handled it better if we had had more time to catch our breath. We thought we were at the end of the marathon only to be told the distance had doubled. Too much happened too fast. No, neither of us handled any part of it well. Both of us were responsible for the mess we found ourselves in. Grace under pressure was not the watchword of the day. We were reactive instead of proactive. People paid for that. We paid for that.”

Quietly, “We both made decisions without working with the other. We both were wrong. We both screwed up. I guess what I felt was shock. I didn’t believe you thought I could do something like that to you. I didn’t want to believe you thought so little of me. I didn’t want to think you thought I would go behind your back that way. I wanted to fix things. I wanted to make everything right. I wanted to make the bad things go away. I wanted things to be the way they were. So, I did what I thought would fix it. I didn’t stop to think of the cost. Would I have done anything differently if I had had time to think? I don’t know. I wish I did know, but hindsight is twenty -twenty. Would I go back and change things? Possibly. I don’t know. Everything that has happened to me has made me the person I am at this moment. I like that person.”

The loft was quiet for a while with both men thinking of the words that had been said. “Jim, I know people go “Aw, poor Blair. Look at what he lost.” Yeah I lost some things. I lost supposed friends. I lost the respect of some people. Others will never trust me fully. I had to leave the U. Well, maybe Joel was right. I gained some things. I’m where I can make a real difference. I do help people. I do make things better for a lot of people. That’s something to be proud of. I’ve gained the respect of people I work with. I found out who my real friends are. I learned who I could rely and depend on. I know where I stand with people. I am with my best friend, my partner, my Sentinel. There is nowhere else I want to be. More importantly, I know who I am. I am Blair Jacob Sandburg, detective, shaman, and guide to a sentinel. Of the three, the last is who I am supposed to be. Jim, I am exactly who and where and in the place where fate, karma or whatever decided I am to exist. I am content with that.

"That doesn’t mean I don’t have moments of anger or resentment. At least now I know what they are. You know something? They don’t matter. My life now, as I choose to live it, it what counts. I may not always like it, but I’ve accepted it.”

As Jim listened to Blair, he knew Blair was speaking the truth, as he knew it. He knew his friend was speaking from his heart. After all, did Blair ever do any less when it came to the important things?

Looking at Blair, Jim asked, “Can we get past this? Can we be alright?”

Laughing in delight, Blair replied, “Oh yeah! It may take a lot more time, but we made a huge start tonight don’t you think?”

“Yes Blair, I do.”

After setting quietly the two men by mutual agreement headed toward their bedrooms.

Placing a hand on Blair’s shoulder, Jim stopped Blair and pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being my partner. Thank you for being my guide. Thank you for saving my life, my sanity and my soul.” Releasing Blair, Jim started up the stairs only to be stopped by Blair’s voice. “Your welcome. Thank you for being a part of my life.”

For the first time in a long time, both occupants of 852 Prospect, # 307 slept without nightmares. Both slept soundly. Both knew they had a lot of work to do though make their relationship better. Both knew they had made an important beginning tonight. Both were more at peace than they had been in a longer time than either wanted to remember.

Day comes. With it come the usual morning noise, sights and routines that are barely part of people’s consciousness. You get up, shower, do your morning toiletry, dress, eat breakfast, read the paper and go to work. You drive the same route that maybe you’ve taken for years. You pass the same people, business and homes that barely register anymore. You drive through the same traffic lights, stop signs and intersections on automatic. Green light means go. Red light means stop. Yellow light means go as fast as possible. Others pass by doing the exact same thing. Consistency is a watchword for the human experience. Routine means normal.

Unless of course, you are Jim and Blair.

Simon Banks had always made it a policy to be the first in the office. As the Captain, he felt he should. Many mornings saw him arrive before the sun was up. As many evenings saw him leave well after the sun had sat for the day. This particular morning, he’d wanted to arrive before his two friends. While refusing to admit to worry, he allowed the fact he was concerned to show. When the two arrived, he didn’t see them at first, but they could see him pacing his office.

Turning, Simon saw his best team. Crooking a finger, he motioned them into his office, waiting patiently, well patiently for him, for them to enter. Offering coffee, which both accepted, he moved behind his desk as the two seated themselves.

When he noticed either was saying nothing, he cleared his throat. “Well, gentlemen? How are you this morning? Are you OK?”

Deadpan, Jim answered. “We decided we needed to come to our senses. We need to see what’s in front of us. Not only are we going to stop and smell the coffee, but taste life as we go. We are going to touch base more often and hear what each other is saying.”

Blair chimed in, “Yeah! We’re going to guide each other. We’re going to follow the other’s lead when necessary. We’re going to be more direct with each other. We’re working on steering each other in the right direction.”

Simon sat back and sighed, a long suffering sound. “Have I mentioned there are days when I despise you both? Have I mentioned safety day at the local elementary schools? Did you know they are looking for help in the traffic enforcement division? There is also a detail for extra security at the mayor’s next fundraiser.”

Snickering, both men looked at their Captain with fondness. Jim answered. “We do understand you’re worried sir. Things are not perfect and will never be. But, we talked last night and both of us said some things we needed to say. We’re better. We’re going to be better.”

Looking at his friends, Simon noticed a sense of calm that had been missing. Both were more relaxed, at ease with each other than he could remember in a long time. Both were working through the complex maze that was their friendship. Perhaps, he mused, things would be OK. God knows, he hoped so. It seemed whenever something was wrong with the Sentinel and Guide, something was wrong with the whole city.

As much as he would have liked to keep the two relaxed, he knew they had to get back to business. “I wanted to let you know the courier has already left with everything we have on the gun for Washington. I figure it’ll take a couple or three days for them to determine for sure if it’s one of their missing ones. If so, I expect we’ll have Captain Hunter to deal with again. I’m sorry Blair, but I’m afraid this isn’t over yet. I just wanted you to know me and the department stands behind you. We’ll take care of you.”

If smiles could produce actual wattage, the city would have had power for a month due to the smile Blair flashed at Simon. Anyone who looked closely, or knew Blair well, could have seen the strain behind the smile. None of the three were fooling themselves. This could and probably would get ugly, very fast.

“In the meantime gentlemen, both of you have reports that were due last week. I’m not assigning you any new cases today. Just get caught up as much as possible. Dismissed.”

Fighting the urge to salute, the two returned to their desks, looked distastefully at the stacks of files and folders lying there, and turned in tandem to head for the break room. After returning, both men diligently went to work. Reports were written, mostly by Sandburg, checked, double-checked, signed and filed to go that place where all paperwork disappears. Lunch came, lunch went. 5:30 p.m. found both looking as tired as if they had chased someone over half the city. Just another day in paradise or the most dangerous city in America.

The next saw the two back on the streets. No new cases, but still trying to tie up old ones. Suspects and witnesses were interviewed. Leads were chased down. Snitches were talked too. “Sneaks” got a pair of the newest Nike’s available. Two arrests were made. An arraignment was attended. More paperwork was completed.

Blair made it a point to seek out Joel the next morning. Giving him a smile, Blair thanked him for what he had said two days before.

“No problem Blair. Sometimes, things we already know, we just need to have verbalized. Hope it helped.”

“More than you’ll ever know Joel. More than you’ll ever know.” Returning to their individual tasks, neither noticed Simon answer his phone or slam it down.

Jim noticed. He wished he didn’t know what had happened. He wished it had nothing to do with his partner.

He wished pigs could fly.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Simon didn’t notice Jim silently entering his office. Softly, Jim asked, “Bad news, Sir?”

“Yeah. The ballistics and bullets from our Jane Doe matched one of the missing weapons from D.C. A Glock. I need to talk to Blair. Go get him please.”

After a couple of minutes, both detectives quietly entered the office, closing the door behind them. Simon rose to close the blinds, a clear signal to all others to not disturb. Walking around his desk to retake his seat, he went straight to the problem.

“Blair, there is a match with the Jane Doe to a gun missing from evidence in D.C. I’ve already talked to chief Mannion this morning. Someone will be coming out to “coordinate” an investigation with us. Because all three weapons have been in this vicinity, and your relationship with a suspect, the investigation will be centered from here. We’ve been ordered to extend all cooperation with our eastern colleagues. I don’t know who will be coming Blair, but I have the feeling it’s not going to be pleasant for any officer involved. I’ve spoken to Chief Warren and he’s assured me Major crimes will be in charge. Blair, I know this is going to problematic for you, but we will take care of you. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Who is going to work this on our end Simon? Am I going to be allowed to continue working? How is this going to be handled? Am I a suspect? Should I get a lawyer or call the association? Where am I standing?”

Jim spoke up. “Blair, just to be on the safe side, I’d call an attorney. Definitely call the association. Be prepared as much as possible. CYA-cover your assets. You know I’ll do whatever I can. Everything will be fine.”

Simon smiled. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant smile. “I’m glad to hear you say that Jim. Especially since I’m going to make sure you are on the investigative team. Blair, since you are not officially a suspect, guess what? You are too. More will be decided when our counterparts show up.”

“Simon, are you sure that’s wise?” asked Blair quietly.

“Why, yes Sandburg I am. That’s why I’m the Captain and make more than you.” Leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head, Simon smiled a genuine smile this time. “It’s good to be in charge. Why are you two still sitting here?”

“I think that’s a subtle hint for us to return to work, Chief.” said Jim dryly.

As they passed the other detectives, both noticed the concerned glances that came their way. All were reassured that everything was OK.

In Washington D.C., the day was almost over when a call went into IA. Transferred to an officer, then a secretary, it was a couple of minutes before Hunter picked up the call. Even on a good day, people stayed out of his way. After this call, it wasn’t a good day. People ducked from him to avoid being the object of his ire.

Striding impatiently out of his office, he told his secretary he wanted anything and everything on Blair Jacob Sandburg of Cascade, Washington state. Travels, associates, history, everything. When asked how soon, he fixed her with a reptilian stare and told her day before yesterday would be nice. After informing her he was on his way to see the Chief, he left not really noticing people literally moving out of his way. It only took a couple of minutes to leave his office, walk downstairs and knock on the Chief’s office. When told to enter, he did so quietly. It really didn’t matter. Everyone knew when he entered a room. He really didn’t care.

“I assume you’ve the reports with you?” he asked in an intense tone to his superior. “Yes I do Captain. Please be seated. We need to discuss how to handle this. Because three weapons have shown up in such a small geographic area, I’ve agreed with the Chief of Police in Cascade to run the investigation there.”

At Hunter’s protest, he continued. “I know you would prefer it to be from here, but the evidence is showing up there. We don’t have any reason or evidence to ask the people possibly involved to come here. All we have is some suspicions. That’s not enough to force someone to fly back here. Chief Warren has assured me his office will be cooperative. What we have to decide is who to send to work with his people. As of now, the investigation is going to be directed by Simon Banks and their Major Crimes Unit.”

In a tone of disbelief, Hunter asked, “Excuse me, Sir. Isn’t that like putting the fox in charge of the henhouse?”

“Perhaps Captain, but first we have to determine if there really is a fox. No point in setting a trap until you know what you are hunting. More importantly, what if our suspicions are wrong?”

Leaning back, the IA Captain asked, “Who do you want me to send?”

Smiling, Chief Mannion replied. “I’m really glad you asked me that Hunter. I really, really am.”

The next morning found the IA Captain leaving BWI before the sun rose. He hated flying. He hated flying early in the morning. He hated flying to a place where he wasn’t in control. He hated Blair Sandburg. He hated James Ellison. He hated Simon Banks and just knew he would hate Cascade with a passion. He used the time to reacquaint himself with what was known of Blair Sandburg. Mother’s name Naomi Sandburg. Father’s name unknown. Well traveled, well educated. Highly intelligent and well liked by his immediate coworkers. He and his partner had one of the highest if not the highest solve rate in the state. Perhaps in the country. Graduated top of his class at the Academy. Straight to detective. That is what puzzled him the most. Who or what did Sandburg know that had allowed him to do this? Did he know things people didn’t want known? Was he holding something over someone’s head? How had his cases gotten through court? What was his relationship with Ellison? Why did Ellison agree to work with Sandburg after all that had happened? Oh well, if nothing else, it wouldn’t be a boring trip.

Arriving in Cascade, he strode through he airport, grabbed his luggage and went to the taxi service. When asked his destination, he told the cabbie to take him to the Cascade P.D. One concession from Chief Mannion had been that no one knew who was coming or when he or she would arrive. Surprise would be the watchword of the day.

Arriving at the PD, he crabbed his suitcase and strode up to the main desk.

The officer looked up, blinked, smiled and said “Hi Detective Ellison! I thought I already saw you come in.”

The poor man was shocked when a very cold voice replied, “One: I’m not Ellison. Two: I haven’t already come in this morning. Three: I don’t know you. Four: I don’t smile” Pausing for a second, he continued. “Where do I sign in?”

After signing in, he was directed to Major Crimes when asked how to get there. Striding off, he didn’t see the officer pick up the phone and call upstairs. Unfortunately, Hurricane Hunter arrived before the phone call. Not a good omen.

In a preface to a book written by Alfred Bester, the great sci -fi writer, the author wrote the future is lying in ambush and the place of that ambush is today. True words. The ambush for Blair had started months ago with thefts in D.C. and now the future was rushing toward Cascade with the speed of a bullet train. The engineer was an IA Captain. He, however, had to cross the Rocky Mountains in the form of Jim Ellison and Major Crimes. No one knew they were on a collision course. If a train leaves D.C. traveling at the speed of an airplane, at what point does it hit an immoveable object? An interesting question. It would have an interesting answer.

If Hunter had wanted to make an appearance, he certainly succeeded when he walked through the door of Major Crimes. Everyone, well just about everyone, stopped what he or she were doing and turned to look.

Eyes swiveled between the newcomer and a familiar face sitting at a desk in a well-established corner of the room. Surprise, curiosity and disbelief warred for places on people’s faces.

Jim had been on the phone trying to track his father down. Although, he hated admitting it, his resemblance to a certain IA Captain had made him curious. Curious enough to initiate first contact with his Father. Although the relationship between the two was better he was still uncomfortable about reaching out first.

Blair too was busy. He’d managed to make a sizeable dent in the paperwork that had awaited the two when they returned. Still, he continued to work steadily on the seemingly never-ending pile of paper on his desk. Somehow, he knew the paperwork was having dates, marrying and having paperwork babies at two in the morning. He also knew he would never verbalize that idea to anyone in the bullpen. “Hairboy” was bad enough. He didn’t need any other nicknames, thank you very much.

Both were so involved in their individual tasks, they ignored the silence at first. It wasn’t until someone in a long tan overcoat stood in front of the desks that they realized something was wrong. Quietly wrong. Seriously wrong. Both looked up at the same time. Both thought the same thing at the same time. Neither man’s thoughts were fit for public consumption. The difference was Jim’s thoughts were mainly in English; Blair went through several languages, finally deciding on Hungarian. After all, there were more ways to curse in Hungarian than any other language he knew.

Deciding to let his partner lead, he waited for Jim’s reaction. It was times like this he blessed Jim’s military service. He firmly believed that was where Jim had learned his stone, never give anything away, what reaction, who me face. Wishing he had one like it, he waited to see what would happen.

“Well, Lieutenant. We meet again. Funny how things work out isn’t it?” asked Hunter with a smile that should have made him a serial killer.

Blandly, Jim replied “ Why yes it is, isn’t it? By the way Blair remind me to buy rat poison on the way home. We may need it.” Smiling sweetly, he continued. “I guess you’re the liaison we’ve been expecting. I’ll take you to Simon’s office. After all, being out of your own department and area can be so disconcerting, can’t it?”

Standing, he motioned the IA Captain to follow him as he knocked on Simon’s door and entered.

Within the blink of an eye, several officers had surrounded Blair’s desk. Questions came so thick and fast, Blair held up his hands in the time honored “time out” signal. Realizing explanations were in order; he quickly gave a run down on what was going on. Several officers voiced their unhappiness with hearing he was a possible suspect. After all, he was one of theirs.

When asked if Hunter and Jim were related, he found himself grinning. “I don’t honestly know. Jim’s trying to find out, but you go to admit it’s scary how much they look alike.”

After several laughing comments about two Ellisons in the bullpen, people began drifting back to their own work.

Simon’s door opened and an obviously ticked off Simon Banks left with Jim and his look- a- like following.

Stopping by Blair’s desk, he studied the room or a moment, then announced “Blair, Joel, Rafe and Brown. Come with me.”

Without another word he left the room with the detectives called for following.

The seven men moved down the hallway, seemingly oblivious to the startled looks two of them were receiving. Opening the door to one of the large conference rooms, Simon motioned the parade inside. Steadying himself he moved in and closed the door. Walking to the head of the table, he waited for everyone to take a seat.

Calmly, he started. “People, we have a situation. Approximately 18 months ago, there was a series of weapons thefts from evidence lock up in Washington, D.C. After a through investigation by Internal Affairs, several officers were successfully prosecuted for their parts in the thefts. Unfortunately, their contact outside the department was not. His name is Paul Sondergard. There was never enough to get a search warrant, much less convict. Things were quiet until 3 months ago. Since then, 3 of the stolen weapons have turned up in our area. One in Seattle, one in Bellingham, and one a few days ago here in Cascade. One of our detectives had a meeting with Mr. Sondergard while he was in D.C. on a case when this happened. As a result, D.C. Internal Affairs questioned this detective. He volunteered. There was no coercion. During the time our detective was in the District, a murder occurred here using one of the stolen guns. A Glock 45. As a result, a liaison has been sent to us to coordinate an investigation. You people will form the task force to find the rest of the weapons, if there are still any in the area, arrest the perps using them and attempt to clear the case from our end. Any questions?”

Quiet reigned. Everyone in the room knew who the detective in question was.

Simon went on. “This is Captain Vincent Hunter from D.C. Internal Affairs. Since he was in charge of the original investigation, he’s here as our liaison. I expect full cooperation.”

Turning to the Captain, he added, “I hope you understand cooperation and working together goes both ways Captain. You’re in my department now and if there are any questions of your ability to work with ANY detectives on this case, I’ll have your butt on a plane by to D.C. so fast you’ll think you’ve grown wings.”

Looking at the room in general, he asked, “Do we all understand one another here gentlemen? If so, let’s get to work. Get this mess off my city streets. Jim, you are the primary and in complete charge of the investigation. Any questions? Get to work.”

Simon turned, grinned at Jim with an innocent look and left the room closing the door behind him.

No one spoke. There was anger. The anger in the room was touchable.

Finally, Henri broke the silence. “So you’re the idiot who thinks Blair is crooked. Man, where do you get off? So he met someone. That doesn’t prove anything. If you think we’re just going to let you mess with Blair, you’d better think again.”

Over a period of time, glaciers move from the spot they’ve occupied over the centuries. IA Captain Hunter didn’t.

Looking around, he merely commented, “So much for objectivity.”

Rafe interjected, “Oh we’re objective Captain. You’re wrong. We’re right. End of discussion. Be warned though, we will not let you run over our colleague, our friend. If he’s crooked, we’ll lock him up gladly. However, that’s not going to happen. Deal with it.”

Jim spoke. “OK. Enough. Everyone has their opinion, but I expect all of us to leave them off this case. Is that understood? If not, tell me now and I’ll deal with it. Anyone need reassigned?”

Various shakes of heads went around the table.

“Blair, would you mind telling us what you know of Paul Sondergard?”

“Of course.” came a tense reply. “I know very little. We had a couple of classes at the University a few years ago. We were never really friends or close. Just someone I knew from class. While in D.C. I was sightseeing in an antique store and ran across Paul. We exchanged hellos, how are yous, and went our separate ways. End of story.”

“OK.” continued Jim. “Henri, Rafe, I want the two of you looking into the murder here. I want to know where the weapon came from, how it got here, who had it and why. The victim has been left a Jane Doe. We need to know everything about her. Who, what, when, where and why. Blair, I want you to work with Seattle and Bellingham. We need all the information available on their cases. Ask if they want to send someone to work with us on this. Make sure all information we have gets to their departments. Let’s go.”

Joel leaned back. “And what do you want form me Jim?”

“Joel I’m going to need someone to put all this information together as it comes in, so it’s in some kind of workable and understandable order. Is that all right with you?”

“No problem Jim. If there is anything else I can do, just let me know.”

The four men at a nod from Jim left the room. Walking over Jim closed the door quietly and turned to Hunter. Walking back to the table, he took a seat directly across from him. For a few minutes, the room was quiet. Each man waiting for the other to make a move.

Finally, Hunter spoke. “Well, Lieutenant.” “Well, Captain. Now you and I are going to chat.”

Body language tells us much of what a person isn’t saying. Tones of voice give us even more information . Between the two, anyone walking into the room would have realized two very unhappy people were sitting there. Oh no, not happy at all.

END of Part One

Go on to Part 2
Please send feedback to the author
Back to the Fiction page