"Next year will be better," Ellison promised with a smile as he held out his champagne glass in front of them. "To us in 1998. May we make it through safely."
The room was cold. His heart felt cold. We made it through by the skin of our teeth.
"Sorry, Chief," Ellison whispered. "I lied."
Next year will be better.
Five days after that promise -- five days -- Blair had been kidnaped by Crawford. Then Jim had gone undercover in the prison. Then one thing after another until he had thrown his partner out of the loft, and later stood over Sandburg's body as he had been pronounced dead.
Next year will be better.
Not even close. It had been a nightmare. Sandburg had endured more than anyone should have had to endure. Psychos like Chapel chasing him, catching him, threatening him. Smallwood, the killer after young Johnny Macado, catching Sandburg in the hallway of the Cascade PD, using him as human shield. Being kidnapped and abused on every level by Jurgen and Turnalo and the rest of the Internet snuff film gang.
Next year will be better.
What could he possibly say now? How could he possibly keep Sandburg by his side? His promises meant nothing.
Violations of trust and privacy.
That's what he had accused Sandburg of, after reading his guide's dissertation. Then ten days later had thrown him out of the loft, violating himself every aspect, every level of trust between them. And he'd done it publicly, in front of their friends. Without an explanation to the one person who'd needed to know what was happening.
Violations of trust and privacy.
Said after he had taken his partner's dissertation, without permission, and read it, knowing that Sandburg had asked him not to.
Violations of trust and privacy.
And so now, here he sat, the Great Sentinel, shaking, hunched over, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop the tears. The bridge between them had been torn down and rebuilt many times and was still standing, but for how long this time?
What can I offer you, Chief? More of the same?
I can't do this, Sandburg. I don't trust myself, anymore. I have all these great intentions, great plans for how smoothly everything is going to go, then something happens, the rug gets pulled out from under me, and I react. That's not fair to you. It never is. How can I go up and toast a new year? What promises can I make that I won't break a moment later?
I can't guarantee that you won't miss any classes, much as I'd love to.
I can't guarantee that we can find a way to publish your dissertation.
I can't keep you safe from danger.
I can't keep you away from psychos.
I can't even keep you safe from me.
"I'm afraid of what will happen next year."
There. He'd said it aloud. The fear that had been building over the last few days. It seemed that as his protective instincts kicked in, taking care of his sick guide, so did the memory of every horrifying thing they had endured. And besides the things that were out his control, the worst was his own accusations against his partner. His loss of personal control, reacting against his guide, throwing him from his home. Violating their trust and privacy.
I can't even keep you safe from me.
* * *
11:50 pm
"Aahhhhh," Blair murmured, sinking into the warmth of the hot tub. "Oh, man, this is heaven, you know?" He went down as low as he dared, his chin resting just below the surface of the water. Despite the balcony the hot tub was on being sheltered from the wind and heated with two outdoor lamps like they used in restaurants, it was still below freezing outside so they weren't able to do much more than take the edge off the cold.
"Aahhhhh," he murmured again. So far, he was the only one in the hot tub. Simon was still puttering in the kitchen with something and Jim was rummaging around his room, looking for whatever. They had agreed to meet at 11:45 pm to welcome the new year and they were now officially late. Well, he'd been late, too, but they were later, so his lateness didn't count. It all evened out.
"Aahhhh." His aching bones loved this. His muscles loved it, too, now that he'd stopped shivering. The cold and flu had hit hard, wiping him out, but when he stopped to think about it, it had been okay. He'd slept a lot, which he had needed to do anyway and probably wouldn't have, and today he had even been well enough to go cross-country skiing in the morning. Of course, he'd then had 'just a short nap' and slept from two o'clock until eight o'clock, completely ruining the 'I'm perfectly recovered' line he'd been trying to use on the two older men.
Not that they ever believed him.
But that was okay, too. They had 'acted' like they had believed him and taken him cross-country skiing, knowing how badly he wanted to go at least once before they left the next day. By noon they had to be packed and heading back, as the next tenants were arriving at 1:00 pm.
Back to . . . Well, a few days off to get the reading done he was supposed to have done while on vacation but was too sick to contemplate. Then Rainier started up, and he'd whittled his schedule back to teaching two classes and four tutorials, expertly arranged to occupy only two mornings a week to optimize his time with Jim. At least, that's what he'd submitted to the university, but when the calendar had come out, it was clear they had screwed up his carefully arranged plans and rearranged his schedule to mess up every day. Monday class at 8:00 a.m., Monday seminar at 12:00. Tuesday seminar at 10:00 a.m. Wednesday class at 10:00 a.m. and seminar at 2:00 p.m. Thursday seminar at 10:00 a.m. And on Tuesday and Friday afternoons from 2:00 - 4:00 p.m, he had his own classes that he had to take.
It couldn't have been a worse schedule. No one liked a class on Monday at 8:00. His students were going to be half awake and hung over. And anything at 10:00 in the morning ruined the entire morning. There wasn't really time to go to the station before his class or after. The same with 2:00 afternoon classes. He was about ready to quit.
Except Jim had been pushing him to keep going, talking about it with him over the last few days. This semester, Jim was determined that Blair would not miss any classes due to injury, and that the university job would be totally separate from Blair's work at the station 'helping out'. University was to be the first focus.
Blair laughed. Right ... Jim, you just don't get it, do you? You're my first focus, man. It was just hard for Jim to believe that someone cared for him that much. Funny thing, how a man could be so intelligent, yet not get such a simple thing as that.
"I love you, Jim," he said, softly now, not sure if the sentinel would be listening, but wanting to say it aloud suddenly, before Simon got there and the thought would evaporate in the merriment of the midnight hour.
He thought for a moment, then said it again. "Jim? I love you. You know that, don't you? That I care? That to be by your side is my highest calling, that I would not have traded my last year, no matter how much it sucked -- and there were some times that majorly sucked -- but regardless, I would not have traded it away if it meant I couldn't be with you. This is truly, really truly, cross my heart and hope to die -- okay, not die, but I would give my life for you, you know that . . ."
His hand glided through the water, tears dropping on the bubbling surface. "Uh, where was I? Oh yeah. I wouldn't have traded it and that's the absolute truth. No lies. No obfuscation. I love you, my brother, my friend. And 'Love covers a multitude of evils', and by that I mean that I know more crap will happen to us this year. I'm not stupid. Crap follows us, man. And I don't need any promises that it won't happen, because that's like, a given with us. That's the way of life, and the way of cops, and the way of Sentinels and Guides. But I'm prepared for that, okay? Whatever happens between us, whatever path we walk on, our foundation is firm. We're bonded, man. So we just have to brace ourselves when the storms happen, ride them out, and catch each other again on the other side. Just promise me you'll come looking for me when it's over, that's all I ask."
Blair ducked his face beneath the water for a moment, letting it swirl the tears from h
is eyes. At least the steam and the remnants of his head cold could be blamed for red eyes.
"Hey, ho!" Simon's voice bellowed on the balcony, as he stepped through th edoor from the den carrying the party favors. "Just talked to Daryl on the phone. He's at his girlfriend's house tonight with a few friends. Sounds like they're having fun." He grinned. "And her parents are there. Her dad came on and assured me there's no alcohol except for a tiny glass of champagne at midnight which I pretended I didn't hear him say."
"That's great, Simon. Hey, where's Jim?" Blair sat up straighter and glanced at the clock inside the den. "JIM!! TWO MINUTES, MAN!!!"
Simon dropped his robe on one of the chairs beneath the heat lamp and slipped into the pool, fussing with his tray of goodies on the table behind where he was sitting in the tub. "Here's your hat, Sandburg," he said, handing one to Blair, then putting one on his own close-cropped hair.
"I need a camera, Simon," Blair said. "HEY, JIM, BRING A CAMERA AND GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE!!"
Simon turned to the open doorwary. "NO CAMERA, ELLISON, OR THE NACHOS GO OVER THE BALCONY UNTOUCHED BY YOUR HANDS."
Jim appeared in the doorway, smiling, hands raised to show no camera. "Relax, Simon, do you think I'd do anything to jeopardize the nachos?"
Blair watched the sentinel shrug out of his robe, crossing the balcony and getting in the hot tub. Simon handed Jim a hat which he ignored, so Blair took it and put it on his partner, noticing that Jim wasn't looking at him. He didn't look angry or anything, just contemplative.
"One minute left," Simon muttered, handing them each glasses and fiddling with the cork from the champagne bottle.
Quietly, Blair started their own countdown, "Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight..." while Simon popped the cork, laughing as it missiled away into the night. Glasses were hastily filled, as the count reached "thirty-six, thirty-five, thirty-four", then the rest of the count became muffled as Simon popped the whistle in Blair's mouth for what was supposed to be "twenty-two, twenty-one, twenty".
Simon lifted his glass and took the whistle from his own mouth. "May I say, before this year is up, that you two have added greatly to the flavor of my life. You have taught me the meaning of enduring friendship. Thank you for sharing this time with me. Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year," the partners echoed, clinking their glasses.
Around them on the side of the mountain, in the other chalets, they could hear the last count down. "TEN, NINE, EIGHT..."
"Blair," Jim said turning to him, holding the glass out. "Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. And I promise I'll come looking."
"What?" he started to say, then realized that Jim had heard him after all. "You better," he whispered, as midnight hit and they touched glasses with each other, then with Simon, then added their own cheers to the echoes of the mountainside.
"Before we start on the nachos, there's one more thing," Simon said, reaching back and getting the round floating tray that he put in the center of the hot tub. On it, he placed the candle holder, the pottery figurines of a small group clasping arms in a circle around the firepot.
"That's my 'Circle of Friends'," Blair whispered, as Simon lit the candle.
"Yes."
They sat for a moment in silence, staring at the tiny flame as it lit up the pottery faces, seeing instead the faces of each other reflecting beyond them.
"Legend has it," Simon said, reading from the little slip of paper that had been in the box with the holder, "that if you give a circle of friends to someone you care for the bonds of friendship between you will last forever." He placed the paper behind him, then reached out a hand to each. "I may not have bought the holder -- from what I understand Sandburg picked it out and you ended up paying for it, Jim, with the other supplies you purchased -- but I bring it here tonight, so each of us had a part to play." They held the pose for a moment, then broke it as Simon reached back for the nachos and other food.
Taking the opportunity, Ellison turned to Sandburg again, smiling at him for a moment, then gathering him into a warm embrace. "And I love you, my brother and my friend," he whispered into his partner's ear. "You are truly the wise one, my teacher and my guide. You've taught me the meaning of love and the meaning of endurance in love and friendship. You've taught me about what truly matters in life. I have no gift to offer in return, but my gratefulness that you are in my life. Totally selfish."
"Totally you, though," Blair replied. "Thanks, man," he said laughing, as Jim released him and Simon, judging it was safe to turn around, resettled himself in the tub with the food handed around.
Jim then cleared his throat, one hand gesturing to his captain as he dipped the tortilla chip into the salsa. "And Simon, in these close quarters, I know you couldn't help but hear what I said to Sandburg, but I need to say it to you, as well. I am grateful that I have the opportunity to have you as a boss, but more importantly as my friend. What would I have done without you during the last year, to yell at me, encourage me, sit with me through long nights, and point me in the right direction? Thank you. You went above and beyond the call of duty and friendship."
"You're welcome," Simon said with a warm smile. "I couldn't imagine it otherwise."
When things calmed down, and they had made a big dent into the food, Blair refilled their glasses with the last of the champagne. "My turn before you two mush-heads turn into drunk prunes and I fall asleep from those Tylenols Jim made me take."
He waited until they were quiet again, listening to him. He touched the 'circle of friends', his finger lingering over the rough pottery sculpture. "I am truly a wealthy man. Not by money. Not by success. But by the people I hold in my heart. When you open your heart to others, you accept all the love that comes with it, but you also accept all the pain, as well. As you both know, I am so not into pain, and so you might ask what compels me to sit here tonight, vulnerable and naked in a hot tub with two macho cops, wearing a stupid hat that dispels any dignity as my reddened nose drips and my eyes are swollen with tears? Knowledge, my friends. Knowledge keeps me here. For as I hold within me a part of your souls, I know that within you is a part of my soul."
Blair paused for a moment, looking at Simon. "Happy New Year? Yes. I wish you both a happy new year. And a prosperous one. And a fulfilling one. But I wish you love, too. In unexpected ways. In random acts of kindness. In deliberate acts of caring. Simon, you and Daryl are a part of my family, in a way that I have never known before. You are my uncle and my cousin of heart. You go beyond friendship into a permanence I've never encountered with my own scattered relatives. You have no reason to care for me, no bonds that make you keep close, and that is truly a gift to me."
He paused again, his eyes slowly meeting Jim's, looking for a moment at the reflection of candle light on the chiseled features of his friend. "And you, Jim, may be the sentinel to my guide, but you are also the father and brother of my heart. You have taught me the love of someone who cares for me and tends my wounds, who holds me in the night when I'm frightened and have come to the end of my resources. You have held me together as a father would his child, with all the compassion and love that entails. And you have walked beside me, linking arms with me, as the brother of my heart, helping me when I stumble, keeping me on my feet, encouraging me, teasing me, infuriating me sometimes, but beyond it all, through it all, you have been there when all else have fled. Even apart from you, I was not separate from you. We are who we are."
He raised his glass. "And so I say, Happy New Year. With everything that means to me. God bless us every one."
They downed their glasses, eyes brimming with tears, then Simon moved the candle aside and with a nod to Jim, the two men proceeded to tickle him and dunk him under the water. There was a brief moment of terror, of memories of the fountain and dying, then they were lost in the churning warmth of the water and the love surrounding him.
My family! My life! Blair thought, exultant as he broke through the surface, water sloshing over the edge of the hot tub, his head thrown
back in laughter unafraid, as he fell back into his sentinel's arms.
~~ the end ~~
Toasting in the Hot Tub Page 2