by Beth Manz
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"Is he still sleeping?" Naomi asked as Jim slipped through the French doors and made his way to the living area. Long rays of morning sunshine slanted across the loft, promising another beautiful day.
"I thought I heard him but I guess not." He sat down beside her, rubbing at his eyes, exhaustion still pulling at him. He hadn't slept well, waking every few hours to check on Blair, making sure he was still comfortable, safe.
"My poor baby," Naomi lamented. "I just can't stop thinking about what happened to him... To know he was locked away in that... " She cringed and looked over at Jim. "I can't even say it."
"I know," he muttered, pushing away the disturbing images her words brought to his mind. "So..." he said slowly, knowing this conversation was inevitable but wishing he could push it away as well. "I suppose, with everything you've seen in the last twenty-four hours, you'll still be asking Blair to leave with you as soon as he's feeling better?"
Naomi inhaled deeply and dropped her gaze. She was silent for several moments. When she looked back up at Jim, there were tears in her eyes; a few seconds later a sad smile played at her lips. "I've been thinking about that a lot," she admitted. "And, no, Jim, I won't be asking Blair to leave with me." She reached up to brush at the tears that now spilled over onto her cheeks. "If I'd only listened to what Blair was trying to tell me that first night--" She shook her head in silent self-reprimand. "He wants to be here, and I can't ask him to leave. Part of me still wants to, but... I can't."
Jim stared at her. This certainly wasn't the response he had expected. "Are you sure?" he asked after a few long seconds.
"Yes, I'm sure."
A deep sigh of relief escaped the sentinel. "I know he'll appreciate that, Naomi. He really is happy here. I hope you can believe that."
"I do believe it," she answered softly, dropping her gaze to her hands where they rested in her lap. "I just didn't want to accept it, especially after finding out some of the things that have happened to him..." She raised her eyes to him, shaking her head slightly. "I won't say that I've changed my mind about what he does with you, Jim... I haven't. It still scares me to death. And I'll always hate it. Always." She took a deep breath. "But... he wants to be here and I have to respect that."
"Naomi," Jim said tenderly, reaching over and taking her hand in his. "I know how dangerous my work is. Believe me, I live with the fear and the responsibility of it every day. But I want you to know that I protect Blair in every way I possibly can. I care about him." He squeezed at her hand. "I know you may not believe this, but Blair...I'm closer to him than I am my own brother."
She squeezed Jim's hand in return and smiled in understanding. "Family comes in many forms, Jim," she offered. "Sometimes family is what we're born into; other times family is something we form for ourselves. And sometimes it's both."
"Well, if that's so, then all I can say is that Blair is family to me in every sense of the word." He paused. "We've been through so much together--"
"Please," Naomi stopped him mid-sentence, raising her free hand. "I already know too much." But as Jim looked into her eyes, he could see that the statement wasn't a reprimand. A sad, soft smile lit Naomi's features, but a tiny spark of mischief danced in her expressive eyes. "No details, okay?"
Jim chuckled. "Okay, no details. But I want you to know that I watch out for Blair every day, Naomi. His safety and well being are more important to me than my own. If... if anything every happened to him..." Jim stopped as his throat constricted around the words. He dropped his gaze to his lap, swallowing hard against the emotions that welled up inside him. "I love your son, Naomi," he whispered after a time. "I would never use him or do anything to hurt him." He locked his gaze with hers again. "Never."
Naomi brushed another stray tear from her face. "I know that. I think I've known all along." She gave Jim a weak smile and said, "I see it so many ways--the way you tease him, the way you've welcomed him into your home, the way you hover over him."
Jim's eyes widened and he exhaled a sudden huff of laughter.
Naomi stared at him in confusion. "What? Did I say something funny?"
Jim held up a hand. "No, you didn't. It's nothing." But the smile he was trying to control refused to be kept at bay. A wide grin broke across his face, causing Naomi to smile back at him, though it was obvious she still didn't know what was so funny.
"Come on," she prompted. "What is it?"
"It's just... well, Sandburg is always telling me I hover."
"Well, of course he is, because you do hover, Jim Ellison! Much more than I ever would."
Jim pinned her with his most serious expression. "Naomi, I'm going to tell you exactly what I tell, Blair. I do not hover." He held up his hand again, stopping her before she could argue with him. "Say whatever you want. I'll deny any hovering on my part to my dying day."
Naomi laughed then, shaking her head. And with their shared laughter, a comfortable silence settled over them.
"Simon told me you saw the file on the shooting," Jim said after a time.
"Yes."
"Blair really didn't have a choice. I know that what he had to do was terrible. It's something I never wanted him to have to go through, and I do feel responsible. I know his involvement with me has put him face to face with more heartache than he deserves, but he's the best partner and friend I've ever had." He scrubbed a hand across his face. "It's like a Catch 22... I see him go through these things and I hate myself because I'm the reason it's happening to him. But... I need him with me. What am I supposed to do?"
Naomi looked down at her lap for a moment. "Just keep caring for him, Jim," she answered quietly as she looked back up at the detective. "And protect him to the best of your ability. That's all I can ask and that's all you can do."
Jim nodded, then chuckled. "He'd hate it if he could hear us talking about him like this."
"I know," Naomi admitted. "We make it sound like he can't handle the things he has to go through but that's not true." She glanced at Blair's room, her eyes gleaming with pride. "Blair has always been strong. I forget that sometimes... "
Slowly, she returned her attention to Jim. He could see that something had changed in her eyes. There was a hesitation there, a look of embarrassment. "Naomi--"
"Jim, I need to know something," she cut in, her voice overriding his. "Do you think you can ever forgive me for the things I said to you the other night? For all that ranting and those horrible accusations." She exhaled a small laugh. "Not to mention my dramatic exit." She reddened as she mentioned her behavior.
"There's nothing to forgive," Jim said softly. "You love your son, you were concerned for him. I can't fault you for that. It's just... Naomi, you need to remember to allow him make his own decisions, live his own life."
She nodded, her bottom lip trembling slightly. "I'll try to remember that." She wiped at her eyes as she began to cry again. "But sometimes that's the hardest thing for a mother to do."
"I know." Reaching over, he drew Naomi to him, wrapping his arms around her as she moved into his embrace. "But you're doing great," he whispered before placing a soft kiss on her cheek.
"Uh, Jim? What's going on?"
Jim released Naomi and looked back over his shoulder. Blair stood outside his bedroom door, his tee-shirt and sweat pants wrinkled, his hair mussed. "Chief! You're awake!" Standing, Jim moved around the couch, crossing to his friend. He reached out and squeezed Blair's shoulders. "How do you feel?"
"Um, better. Sore, but better."
"Good." Jim removed his hands from Blair's shoulders and, placing them on his hips, stared down at his guide, biting back an amused smile as he took in the younger man's rumpled appearance.
"What?" Blair asked, staring up at him. "What's so funny?"
"You are." Jim reached out with both hands and began to pat at Blair's wildly errant curls. "You have a kind of 'Medusa' look going for you here, Chief."
Blair scowled up at the detective and ba
tted at his hands. Backing away, he dramatically tucked his hair behind his ears. "Envy is an ugly emotion, Jim," he lectured smugly.
Jim laughed, then draped an arm around Blair's shoulders and guided him across the loft to the living area.
"Hey, Mom," Blair said as the two men approached the sofa. Moving forward, he took her in his arms and gave her a warm hug.
"Are you feeling better, sweetie?"
Blair nodded and released her from the hug, then slipped an arm around her waist. He turned and looked back at Jim. His gaze shifted from his grinning partner to his smiling mother and back again. His eyes narrowed slightly. "The two of you look way too happy. What did I miss?"
"Nothing, baby," Naomi assured him, smiling warmly at Jim. "We were just talking."
"Uh huh," he drawled. "And?"
"And..." Naomi repeated innocently. "Everything's fine."
"Everything's fine," Blair repeated skeptically.
"Yes. I'm going to leave for that retreat in Fresno Saturday morning as planned. But... I'm not going to try to get you to come with me."
Blair stared at his mother. "So you're okay with me staying here with Jim?"
"Of course, baby. He needs you! After all, you are his partner."
Blair blinked a few times, then looked back over at Jim. "I'm still asleep, right? This entire conversation is a dream and I'm going to wake up any minute, aren't I?"
Jim flashed his partner a non-committal smile and shrugged. Blair looked to his mother for an explanation, but she just smiled brilliantly, then pulled him into another hug.
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Blair, clad in tee-shirt, sweats and socks, deposited the armful of blankets and pillows on the couch where he'd be sleeping again that night, then moved over to sit next to Naomi on the loveseat. His gaze was drawn briefly to the bedroom above. Jim had gone up nearly twenty minutes before. Blair could hear the white noise generator his partner had turned on. He smiled appreciatively, knowing Jim was giving him and his mom some privacy. "I wish you didn't have to leave in the morning," he said, turning his attention back to Naomi.
"I know, sweetie. But this retreat will be good for me. I have a lot to process, you know."
Blair smiled at her. "I know. Just don't make it so long before you visit again next time, okay?"
"I'll try to get back before Christmas, I promise." She reached around his shoulders and pulled him close. "And the next time I come, I promise it will be because I want to see you, not because I'm angry."
"Mom..."
"And I promise I won't embarrass you in front of anyone..."
"Mom..." Blair groaned, rolling his eyes.
"No, no, let me finish. I won't embarrass you--not purposely, anyway--and I won't try to drag you out of Cascade and away from your life here. I promise."
"Mom, you have to let this go, all right? You came here because you were concerned. We both said some things we're sorry for, but it doesn't change the way I feel about you."
Naomi's gaze fell away from her son. She swallowed hard, shaking her head slightly. "I just never want you to be ashamed of me," she admitted finally, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't think I could bear it if you were ever ashamed of me."
"Naomi," Blair said, taking her into his arms and holding her tightly. "I was never ashamed of you," he said close to her ear. "It... it was just the things you were saying... That's all. It was never you I was ashamed of."
"Are you sure?"
He pulled back so he could look into her eyes. "I'm sure."
"I do need to ask you one thing, baby." Reaching out, she brushed at his hair, moving it away from his forehead. "About this shooting? Are you sure you're all right with everything that happened?"
He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Jim was there for me. He really helped me through it." He smiled softly. "And I'm at peace with it. I have been for a long time."
"But why didn't you tell me, Blair?"
He raised one eyebrow.
"Right," she drawled, laughter dancing in her expressive eyes. "Forget I said that."
They laughed together, then Naomi held up a hand. "Oh! I almost forgot! I have something for you." Pulling her bag from where it lay on the coffee table, she dug down through it and extracted a small card. "Here, this is for you."
"What is it?" Blair asked, gazing down at the 800-number written on the card.
"It's my beeper number."
"A beeper number?" Blair gasped out, surprised. "I've seen everything now."
"I got it so you'll always be able to reach me if you need me. Imagine that! Your mother buying into evil consumerism and purchasing a beeper! I'll have some karma cleansing of my own to do at that retreat, won't I?"
Blair laughed and shook his head. "I don't think the purchase of a beeper will upset your karma all that much, Mom."
"Well, I hope not. After all, it is for a good cause."
Blair reached over and dropped the card inside the basket on the coffee table. "Thanks, Mom. And I'll make sure Jim has the number."
"Oh, he already does," Naomi informed him, her eyes wide. "And Simon, too."
Blair rolled his eyes and groaned. "Mom!"
"What? I shouldn't have given them the numbers?"
"Relax, Mom. It's okay. I'd have given them the numbers myself anyway."
"So you're not upset?"
"Of course not."
"Okay. I really am trying to be better, Blair."
Reaching out, Blair drew his mother to him for another warm hug. "You're perfect just the way you are, Mom," he whispered against her hair. "I love you."
Epilogue
Dr. Marcus Grant took Blair's face in his hands and squeezed hard, clutched at him until Sandburg closed his eyes and cried out in pain. "Open your eyes and look at me!" the doctor commanded, pressing his hands against Blair's face until the young man obeyed.
Jim stood on the other side of the large room, his focus on the doctor's cold, menacing eyes. His stomach clenched tight as he saw a subtle shift of light in their green depths--the shift of lucidity giving way to madness.
Suddenly, Grant's attention moved from Blair to Jim, though he retained his hold on the younger man. "I told you not to cheat, Ellison," Grant ranted at him. "But you wouldn't listen. You cheated and now Blair is going to pay for it!"
Before Jim was able to utter a cry, before he had time to even draw the breath that would allow him to form the words, Dr. Grant released Blair's face and pressed his hands against the young man's chest. Laughing, he shoved him hard. Sandburg staggered backward, backward... to the place in the rotting warehouse floor where the planking dropped away, exposing the ground level three stories below.
"No!" Jim cried. "No!"
He rushed across the warehouse floor. Every muscle in his body, every nerve within him, every thought in his mind screamed for one thing--that he must get to Blair on time. That he must catch him before he fell...
But suddenly, his way was blocked by debris that seemed to spring up from nowhere. He cursed and pushed at the objects that impeded his progress, his heart pounding in his ears, sweat trailing down his back.
Looking ahead, he saw Blair trying to balance himself on the lip of the unstable planking. Hands tied behind his back, he teetered on the cusp of open space. Eyes wide with fear, he called Jim's name. Once... twice...
"Blair!" Jim returned his guide's cries as he pushed desperately at the debris. Finally breaking free from it, he made his way toward the edge of the precipice.
Miraculously, just as he was about to reach his friend, Blair's hands came free from their bonds. And as the sentinel watched, his guide's right arm flew outward, fingers extended toward Jim.
There was the sickening sound of wood cracking and breaking beneath Blair's weight, then the young man's tenuous balance shifted, and he began to fall backward.
"Blair!" Jim cried again, taking the last step toward his friend. "Take my hand!"
But it was too late. Jim's finge
rtips brushed lightly against Blair's. There was the briefest whisper of warmth from the contact with his friend's flesh, then Sandburg was gone--free falling toward the ground below.
"Nooooo!"
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"Jim? Jim! C'mon, man, wake up!"
"What? No!" Jim jerked upright, pushing away the hands that were digging into his upper arms, shaking him.
"Jim, hey! It's me. It's Blair!"
Jim fell back against his pillows as the voice of his guide reached him. "Blair," he repeated, relief washing through him. It was a dream. Blair is here. He's fine. Reaching up, he ran a hand over his face and through his hair, trying to wipe away the anxiety of the dream. It didn't work. The sharp, crystal clear imagery of the nightmare remained.
"You okay?" He heard Blair's voice, close by, concerned.
Jim nodded, opening his eyes. Blair stood beside his bed, staring down, his face lined with worry.
Sitting up, Jim leaned against the headboard and pulled his legs up, folding his arms across the top of his knees. He bowed his head against his arms and drew in a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. The mattress shifted as Blair sat down on the side of the bed. Jim waited until his breathing had relaxed and evened out, then he lifted his head and looked up at Blair, who sat facing him, a concerned frown lining his face.
"Hey," Blair said again. "You doing better?"
"Yeah, thanks," Jim muttered, embarrassed at having been caught in the middle of a bad dream. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"You didn't wake me. I was grading papers in my room."
Jim nodded. "Well, that's something I guess."
"You want to tell me what that was all about?" Blair asked, scooting closer and studying him through narrowed eyes.
A small huff escaped Jim's lips. "Not especially."
Blair let out a long breath. "Listen, Jim, whatever you were dreaming about had you scared out of your mind. I think you need to talk about it. I think if you don't talk about it, odds are you're going to have the same dream again. It's in your head, man. You need to get it out."
"Chief..." Jim drawled slowly.