Promissory

by ysone

Disclaimer: This story is an amateur effort, written for my own entertainment. It was not my intention to infringe on any copyrights regarding The Sentinel.

---

As he stepped from the elevator, Jim Ellison reached out with his senses. It was instinctual, a habit that had become so ingrained that he was no longer even aware of it. It was only when his hearing picked up the soft movements of someone within the loft that he registered his actions. He paused outside the door, his hand on his gun, and stretched his senses farther, trying to determine the identity of the intruder. Almost instantly, he recognized the distinctive scent of his roommate and partner, Blair Sandburg.

A bright smile of pleasure lit the detective's handsome face. He quickly threw open the door, his eyes searching for, and finding, his friend. Blair was standing at the stove, a mug in his hand, as he waited for the kettle to boil.

The young man stepped back quickly, almost losing his grip on the mug as he startled at the sudden intrusion. "Jeez, Jim, you just took ten years off my life, man!"

Jim's smile broadened. "When did you get home, Chief? Why didn't you call me?"

Blair set the mug down and reached for the kettle, which was just beginning to sing, before answering. "I got in a couple of hours ago. I figured Simon probably had you pretty busy, so I just grabbed a cab. No big deal."

"You should have let me know you were coming home today. I would have been at the airport to pick you up." Jim set his keys in the basket by the door and removed his gun and holster. "How's your friend?"

"She's feeling better," Blair said, taking his tea into the living room.

Jim's smile faded as he picked up his Guide's increased heart rate. Blair had received a phone call last week from Tulsa informing him that an old friend was ill and asking for him. Jim had driven him to the airport that same night. Worried that things maybe hadn't gone well with the friend, Jim gently asked, "Blair, everything all right?"

Blair continued past the couch, stopping in front of the glass doors to the balcony. "Yeah."

Jim followed his friend, but stopped just behind him. He knew Blair could see him in the reflection on the glass. "Blair..." he paused, not sure what to say. Blair's body language -- everything from the uncharacteristic slump of his shoulders to the white knuckled grip on the tea mug -- was screaming that something was wrong. Should he pursue it? Jim wasn't good at these things. He never knew quite what to say or do; when to push, when to back off. Finally, he decided that Blair would talk when he was ready.

"How about some supper?" Jim asked, changing the subject. "My treat. We can hit that Mexican place down by the mall."

Blair shook his head without turning. "I'm not hungry. I'm just really tired. Jet lag, I guess. I'll just finish this tea, then hit the sack. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, I understand," Jim said quickly. "Go ahead. I'll get something later." He waited another minute, but Blair didn't seem inclined to talk.

Jim suppressed a sigh as he turned for his bedroom. There, he grabbed a change of clothes before heading for the bathroom. By the time he had finished with his shower, Blair had turned in for the night.
~~~
Blair sat on the side of his bed, almost holding his breath. He heard Jim exit the bathroom and pause outside his bedroom door. He knew the Sentinel could tell he wasn't sleeping, but he hoped Jim would accept that he was tired and not try to force a conversation tonight.

Not that Blair would be any more willing to discuss this tomorrow. He just wanted Jim to drop it altogether. But he knew that was asking too much of the detective. Jim's protective instincts had already gone into overdrive, Blair could tell. And though the younger man appreciated the concern, he just wasn't ready to talk about his trip until he had to. Maybe if he put it off long enough, Jim would let it drop.

Yeah, like that's gonna happen.
~~~
"Jim, hold up a minute."

The detective stopped just short of exiting the captain's office behind his partner. Blair continued on to Jim's desk, not even sparing a glance back.

"Shut the door," Simon said. He waited until Jim had complied and reclaimed one of the chairs before continuing. "Jim, what's going on with Sandburg? He's scarcely said a dozen words since he got back from that little trip last week."

Jim reached up and massaged the back of his neck, his eyes closing briefly. "I don't know, Simon. I've spent the past six days trying to get him to talk to me. He either ignores me completely or snaps my head off when I ask. I've given up. He'll talk when he gets ready, I guess. Until then..." Jim threw his hands up in a frustrated gesture.

"Something happen while he was gone maybe? Didn't you say he was visiting a sick friend? Maybe it was worse than he let on."

"If that's all it is, why won't he tell me?"

"Look, Jim, don't take it personally. The kid tends to be a bit more emotional than the rest of us. He's probably just having a hard time dealing with this. Let him know you're there when he's ready to talk, and then give him some time."
~~~
"No, dammit, Jim! This can't wait!" Blair noticed Jim's start of surprise at the angry outburst and forced himself to stop, taking a deep breath. When he felt calmer, he continued. "You've been putting me off for weeks, man. We have to run these damned tests. I don't enjoy it anymore than you do, by the way. You think I don't have better things to be doing on a Friday night? But you expect me to have all the answers when things go wrong with your senses. How the hell do you think I come up with those damned answers? You think I can just make this shit up as we go? Get a clue, Ellison, it doesn't work that way!"

Blair saw the incredulous look on Jim's face and wondered if he had gone too far this time. This was definitely not the way to talk the Sentinel into going along with him. But Blair was so tired of arguing with Jim on this. For three damned years he had had to plead, cajole, beg, bribe, and threaten to get Jim to do even the simplest of tests. Under normal circumstances, it wasn't that big a deal. Blair was willing to do whatever it took to get the man to cooperate, knowing it was in Jim's best interest, even if Jim didn't. But this wasn't the best of circumstances. Blair was keenly aware of the time constraints he was working under. There was so much to do, so many plans to make, so much to organize, and such a limited amount of time. It was imperative that Jim get as much control as possible in the next few short weeks. Somehow, he had to make Jim see that.

"Look, I'm sorry if I sound like Sybil here, Jim, but you have to understand that these tests are important. You've got to cut me some slack, man."

"Chief, you want to tell me what's really going on here?"

Blair met Jim's gaze for a moment, surprised to see concern in those blue eyes rather than the anger he expected. "I don't know what you mean."

"You're asking me to cut you some slack, Blair. Why don't you do the same for me? It's been pretty obvious to everyone that something isn't right with you. You've practically been a stranger ever since your return from Tulsa last month." Jim's voice softened, and his eyes took on a gentle expression. "Look, I know that your friend's sickness hit you pretty hard--"

"That has nothing to do with your tests, Jim," Blair interrupted, not willing to discuss Joy right now...or ever.

Jim sighed, and Blair had no trouble reading the frustration and impatience in the sound.

"Fine!" Blair thundered, rising to stomp toward his bedroom. He stopped at the door and turned back to face Jim. "You don't want to do the damn tests, we won't do them. But you'd better decide what's important to you, man. If you intend to continue with this sentinel stuff, you're going to have to get some control, some idea of what your limits are, how to avoid zoning, 'cause the day may come when I can't be there to get you through it. Have you thought about that? Or do you just plan on keeping me tied to your side for the rest of your life?"
~~~
Jim watched open-mouthed as Blair retreated to his bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him. He had seldom seen the young man so angry, and never before over something like this. Blair tended to choose his battles carefully, not expending his considerable energies on anything that wasn't of the utmost importance.

Had Jim miscalculated the importance of these tests? He knew they were important to the kid. Hell, he could even admit that they were important to him. But, damn, he was tired, and tests were the last thing he wanted to deal with right now. Normally, Blair was understanding of things like that. But then normally, Blair didn't seem so desperate to get Jim's cooperation.

Desperate...

Jim mulled over the word. It was the only one that described Blair's overreaction to Jim's reluctance. Then Blair's words finally sank in, and Jim suddenly understood.

...the day may come when I can't be there...

Jim smacked himself in the head with the heel of his hand. Of course, that explained everything. Jim knew first-hand how facing a friend's loss could force you to reevaluate your own mortality. Obviously, that's what was going on with Sandburg.

"God, Chief," Jim whispered to the closed door, "why don't you just tell me what you're feeling? Why do you make me read between the lines?"

He stood and made his way across the room to Blair's door. Knocking softly, he called out, "Blair, could we talk? Please?"

For a long moment, there was no answer, then Jim heard movement, and the door clicked open. Jim was startled to see a hint of moisture in the blue eyes that looked up at him. His guilt deepened.

"I'm sorry, Blair. I know I'm a stubborn bastard at times. I know this is important to you and should be to me, too. Sometimes I just forget that. I don't mean to belittle what you're doing, and I don't mean to take you for granted. I know you may not always be around, though I'm kind of hoping you will be. I know you have a life of your own and that I can't selfishly hold you here just because I need you. If you still want to do the tests, I'm ready."

Blair's eyes misted even further, and he dropped his gaze to the floor for a minute. Jim could almost feel the young man pulling himself back together.

"I'm sorry, too, Jim. I had no right to lose my temper like that. I know you're tired, and I know you have better things to do with your time. I just feel..." Blair lifted his head, his eyes scanning the room as though searching for something. "...I don't know, I just think we've wasted too much time as it is. The tests are important, not just to me, man, but to you and to everyone that works with you. You have to get control of your senses, at least to the point where you aren't so dependent on me. I'm not planning on leaving, Jim, but who knows what tomorrow will bring, you know? I can't promise that something's not going to happen that will prevent me from working with you so closely. And then where will you be? Unless you want to train Simon to fill in for me, then you're going to have to take more control of your senses." He lightened his words with a small smile.

Jim caught the amused twinkle in the young man's eyes and smiled himself. "Simon as my guide?" He held up both hands and gave an exaggerated shudder. "I'll take the tests!"
~~~
Jim wasn't sure what woke him up. He was very still for a long moment, listening to the night sounds. Nothing out of the ordinary struck him. He rolled over and lifted his head up, zooming in on the clock on the microwave downstairs. It was a little after four, way too early to be awake. Settling back down into his pillows, Jim automatically reached out with his senses to assure himself that his Guide was sleeping safely below.

That's when he discovered what had awakened him. Blair wasn't in his room. In fact, Jim couldn't hear his heartbeat in the loft at all. Jim was up and pulling on his jeans in an instant.

Downstairs, he immediately noticed that Blair's keys were still in the basket by the door. That narrowed it down somewhat. Blair couldn't have gone far without his car. Jim slipped his shoes on and headed out the door. Approaching the elevator, he was hit by a sudden inspiration and turned for the stairs.

He was half-way up to the roof when the familiar heartbeat registered, immediately calming a fear he had scarcely acknowledged. He opened the door to the roof and stepped out into the cool night air. His vision adjusted almost instantly to the moonlight. Jim stopped in the doorway, letting himself absorb the sight that greeted him.

Blair was sitting against the low wall that surrounded the rooftop. His head was back, as he stared up at the few stars that were brave enough to force their gentle radiance through the haze of city lights.

"Ever noticed how much clearer the night sky is when it's cold?" Blair didn't even glance toward Jim. "It's like the air is cleaner somehow."

"Blair," Jim spoke quietly, "isn't it a little early for star gazing?"

Blair chuckled softly, finally dropping his eyes from the sky to look at Jim in the dim light from the street below. "Any later, and the sun will be up. I don't think we'd see many stars."

Jim sat down next to his Guide. "You know what I mean, Chief. What are you doing up here at this time of the morning?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Blair said, returning his gaze to the stars.

"I asked you first."

"Couldn't sleep," Blair explained succinctly.

"So you thought you'd do a little star gazing at four in the morning." Jim shook his head in bafflement. It was obvious that something specific was on the young man's mind, something that had driven him from his warm bed out here to the roof in the cold dead of the wee morning hours.

Blair didn't respond, and Jim let the silence stretch on for much longer than he felt he should. He simply had run out of things to say. For weeks he had been prodding his friend and roommate for information, trying every tactic he knew to get Blair to open up to him. He had gone along, as patiently as possible, with the endless parade of tests lately, hoping it would reassure and settle his Guide's fears. But nothing seemed to make a difference. The only changes Jim had seen were more of the same. Blair had become more withdrawn, more introspective, more demanding with his tests. Whatever was going on with Blair, Jim was on the verge of giving up.

Except that just wasn't an option.

Jim refused to give up on his friend. Whether or not he realized it, Blair needed his friends right now. So, even if he didn't know what to say, or how to get through to Blair, Jim had no intention of giving up. When Blair got ready to talk, Jim would be right there, ready to offer his friend whatever he needed.

Jim was so engrossed in his own thoughts that when Blair finally spoke, it startled him.

"I know things have been a little...unsettling lately, Jim. I'm sorry for that. I want you to know that I appreciate how understanding and patient you've been. I know it hasn't been easy."

"I just want you to be okay, Blair. I can see that something is going on with you, and that it's hurting you, and I don't know how I can help you."

"You can't." Blair took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I've had a lot on my mind. A lot of decisions to make, and I needed to do it alone. I'm sorry if that left you feeling shut out. I never intended for that to happen. I guess I've just been too wrapped up in my own problems to notice what I was doing to you."

Jim didn't respond for a moment. Then, "Does this have anything to do with your friend, the one who is sick?" Jim heard the hitch in Blair's breath and looked over at his friend.

"Yeah," Blair's voice caught, and he stopped to clear his throat. "Yeah, it has everything to do with it. Joy...that's my friend...we're close, Jim, in a way that I can't explain. I've known her forever, it seems like."

Jim held his breath, hardly believing that Blair was finally talking.

"She's dying."

Jim had no trouble detecting the grief and fear in the softly voiced words. "I'm sorry." He hoped Blair would recognize the sincerity of those simple words.

"Yeah, me too." Blair sat up and pulled his knees in close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He had given up his study of the night sky, and was concentrating on the lights of a nearby building.

"She has a brain tumor. It happened so fast. Too fast. There wasn't enough time--" He broke off and cleared his throat again. "It's gotten pretty bad. She doesn't have much time left."

He turned his head to meet Jim's gaze, and Jim saw a depth of pain in the blue eyes that shook his soul. Blair was taking this very hard. Jim reached for Blair's shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

"I'm going to go stay with her until...well, until the end. I have to, Jim. I don't want her to be alone when she--"

He broke off again, and Jim saw the single tear that worked free from the pool gathered in his eyes. It caressed its way gently down the young man's cheek and dropped harmlessly to the ground. Jim followed its path with his gaze. He didn't know what to say to take away the pain that was radiating from his friend. He didn't think there were any suitable words.

"I don't know when I'll be back," Blair continued, turning his gaze away again. "It may be a while."

"When are you leaving?"

There was a short pause. "Tomorrow."

Jim's breath caught in this throat.

"I know that's short notice," Blair continued. "I've made arrangements at the university. I wanted to tell you, but I...I just couldn't seem to start the conversation. I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to spring it on you at the last minute like this."

"That's why you've been so adamant about the tests." Jim kept his voice whisper soft.

Blair nodded. "Partly. I just want to know that you can get by without me if you have to. I need to be sure you'll be all right."

"Blair..." Jim paused, choosing his words carefully. He wanted to offer his friend the reassurance he so obviously needed, but at the same time he knew he had to be honest. "Blair, I've gotten much better at controlling my senses. In the past three years, I've come so far, discovered so much. But I'm still a long way from being able to do this on my own. Even if I could, I don't want to. I need you, Chief. Sure, Simon knows enough about what's going on to help me control the zone outs. You've done a great job educating the man. But don't for one second think that Simon can replace you as my guide. It can't happen. I love Simon dearly. He's a great friend. But he can't watch my back like you do. And it's more than that. Can Simon guide on the fly like you do? I doubt it. Can he pull this knowledge out of the deepest recesses of his brain with little or no effort? Not even. You live and breath this stuff. You are innately a guide, Blair. You were born to it, like I was born to be a sentinel. You are my guide. Simon couldn't fill your shoes even if he wanted to."

Blair stood abruptly, pacing away a few steps. "Don't say that! I have to know that you have backup, Jim. I have to know that you'll be okay if I'm not around. I can't deal with the responsibility and guilt otherwise." He turned back to face Jim, his hands making a mess of his long hair. "Jim, I can't always be behind you, man. Surely you can see that."

Jim stood, facing his partner. A tingling of warning was working its way up his spine. "Blair, you are coming back, right? I mean, you aren't about to chuck this sentinel thing and disappear on me, are you?"

Blair took a deep breath. For a long moment, he didn't release it, and Jim unconsciously held his own. "I'm coming back, man. I'm not skipping out on you. I just..."

He paused, looking around as though searching for the words he needed. "I just need to take a step back for a little while, Jim. I can't do this right now. I'm not saying I want to give up my job as your guide, or that I'm planning on running out on you. That's not what I'm doing. I'm not quitting. Honest to God, Jim, you have to believe me."

Jim moved closer to the frantic young man, lifting his hands to rest them on the thin shoulders. He could feel the painfully taut muscles beneath the surface. Blair seemed so incredibly fragile right now. Knowing he had the power to make or break Blair with his next words, Jim took a deep breath. "Do what you have to do, Blair," he said with more confidence than he was feeling. "I'll be here when you feel like you can come back. Then we'll work this out. We'll find a solution."
~~~
Jim stared at the answering machine as though it were a poisonous snake, almost wishing it were. That was a danger he could fight, a threat he could handle. A snake could be killed, or avoided. But this...

Blair had been in Tulsa for almost three weeks now, and Jim had barely heard from the young man. One call to let Jim know he had arrived okay, and one more, only a few days ago, ostensibly to check in with Jim, though Jim knew the call was more to check for senses problems than anything else. Blair had sounded tired, but he had convinced Jim that all was going as well as could be expected, and no, he didn't know when he would be coming home.

Jim shook himself and reached again for the button that would replay the message, hoping that somehow he had heard it wrong or gotten the words confused in his mind, or that in the past two minutes the message would have changed. But it was not to be.

"Blair, it's Rick. Hey, good news, buddy. My cousin got the transfer, so the apartment will be available, after all. But look, I need to know by next week if you still want it. So call me as soon as you decide, okay?"

Same message. The one that only two minutes ago had brought Jim Ellison's world crashing down around him. Blair was looking for a new place to live. How could that little bit of news have escaped Jim? Why hadn't Blair said something? Some hint, some little casual mention somewhere along the way. Oh, by the way, Jim, I've been looking for a new home. Something a little less...well, you know, crowded.

Jim angrily snatched open the refrigerator door, snagging a beer and heading out to the balcony. He leaned on the railing, studying the city skyline as late afternoon gave way to dusk.

This development gave new meaning to the conversation they had had on the roof the morning before Blair had left. Blair had said he needed to know that Jim could control the senses if something happened to his Guide. He had mentioned decisions that he had had to make. Then he had dropped the bombshell on Jim about going away for a while. Jim had tried to be understanding and patient -- after all, Blair was hit hard by his friend's situation.

I'm coming back, man. I'm not skipping out on you. Blair's words were as clear in Jim's mind now as they had been that morning. I just need to take a step back for a little while, Jim. I can't do this right now.

Then Blair had stood right there, looking Jim in the eye when he said, I'm not saying I want to give up my job as your guide, or that I'm planning on running out on you. That's not what I'm doing. I'm not quitting. And all the time, he had been planning to move out.

What else had Blair kept from him? Would there be any more surprises when he came back to Cascade? For that matter, was he even planning on returning to Cascade? Jim shook his head. No, if Blair wasn't coming back, he wouldn't have been looking for an apartment here. So, he was planning on returning, but then what?

Jim drained the beer and went back inside. He stood in the middle of the living room, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. Continue on as though the bomb had never gone off? Pretend that it was all right with him if his best friend and roommate thought it best to sneak away and start a new life that didn't include sentinels and guides? If Blair thought that's what he was going to do, then he could damned sure think again.

Jim stomped over to the phone, snatching it up angrily. He rummaged through the phone book, finally finding the hand printed number he was looking for, scrawled in his partner's distinctive writing on the inside back cover. He quickly dialed before he could change his mind.

It took two more calls, but he finally tracked down the one person he thought could help him get in touch with his Guide.
~~~
Naomi Sandburg held the phone for a long time after Jim had hung up. Finally, she gently set it down. Even though she had said little, she felt as though she had betrayed her son's confidence. It was so unlike Blair to keep secrets from Jim. She knew how close the two of them had become in the past three years, and though it never ceased to amaze her, given the startling differences between the two, she was deeply pleased that Blair had someone like Jim to watch over him. God knows Blair hadn't had a lot of male influence growing up. At the time, Naomi hadn't seen it as a problem, but now, sometimes, she wondered if her eyes had been closed to the truth. She couldn't miss the way Blair looked up to Jim, idolized the older man, and she would have to be blind not to notice how much Blair had changed since meeting Jim. While she hadn't been entirely happy with all of the changes, even she could admit that Blair was more settled, more content with his life and himself now. For that, at least, she owed Jim Ellison.

And that's why she had said as much as she had to the man. She hadn't actually betrayed any of Blair secrets, but she had hinted around them enough for the detective to know that there was more going on than he knew. Blair should have talked to Jim about this weeks ago. Naomi had no idea what was going on in the young man's mind. She had come to the conclusion that he was afraid of what the coming changes would mean to his friendship with Jim. Maybe he thought Jim wouldn't accept--

No, there was no way Blair would think that. It simply wasn't a valid fear. Even Naomi knew Jim better than that.

So she had told Jim the truth. Or as much of the truth as she dared. Now it was between Jim and Blair.
~~~
The arrival announcement was made over the loudspeakers, drawing a forward rush of the small crowd that had been waiting impatiently for the much delayed flight to land. Jim stayed at the back of the crowd, his hearing dialed almost all the way down, in deference to the noise levels. He had never been particularly fond of airports even before the onset of his heightened senses. Had Blair been at his side to offer comfort and advice, Jim felt he wouldn't have let the situation drive him to a pounding headache. But then, if Blair had been at his side, he would have had no reason to be here in the first place.

Playing detective after his conversation with Naomi three nights ago, Jim had finally been able to track down Blair's reservation for the returning flight to Cascade. Naomi had told Jim that Joy, Blair's friend, had passed away several days earlier and that Blair was remaining in Tulsa only long enough to handle arrangements and tie up some loose ends. From there, it had been relatively easy, given the department's resources.

The remainder of Naomi's conversation hadn't been as easy to decipher. She had made confusing references to Jim's need to be "understanding and patient" with her son's erratic behavior as of late. When pressed for details, she had, unsurprisingly, deftly avoided specifics.

Jim growled softly, rubbing his hand over his face. Like son, like mother. Both could be just as damned stubborn and vague as the other when it suited them. But he had to give Naomi some credit. She had given him enough details to piece together Blair's schedule.

So here he was, waiting to face his so called best friend and Guide with his accidentally discovered news. And Jim wasn't looking forward to it one bit. What if Blair told him it was true? What if the grad student really was planning to move out, give up the sentinel work? Could Jim change his mind? Did he even have a right to try?

He shook off the depressing thoughts as he picked up the gentle, distinctive scent of his Guide. Cautiously, he adjusted the dial on his hearing to pick out the strong, steady beat of the familiar pulse. He turned toward the gate, scanning the approaching faces, till he saw the one he was looking for.

Blair was slowly walking toward Jim, still oblivious of the older man's presence. His attention was divided between the crowd around him and something below him. As the crowd split off in front of Jim, he saw what it was that had captured Blair's attention.

Beside the anthropologist, skipping to keep up with the longer gait, was a little boy. Jim guessed he was no more than three or four. The child glanced up at Blair with a smile on his face. Blair responded by reaching down and tousling the dark blond curls.

Jim smiled at the scene. Blair attracted kids almost as easily as he did women. He looked around, wondering which of the young women was the boy's mother. Probably the blond a few steps behind Blair and the boy. She certainly was watching every move the pair made, with more than a little interest on her pretty face.

To Jim's surprise, the woman turned away, sighing heavily, but obviously not interested in claiming the child. Before Jim could find another likely candidate for the position, Blair caught sight of him and stopped. Jim had no trouble detecting the accelerated heartbeat, or the sudden paling of the young man's face. The boy stopped as well, looking up in confusion.

Realizing that Blair was rooted in place, at least for the moment, Jim crossed the waiting area to stand in front of him.

"Jim."

"Right the first time."

"What are you doing here? I mean, how did you know...?"

"I'm a detective, remember?"

"You didn't have to meet me. I could have taken a cab."

"We need to talk, Chief."

Blair swallowed hard. "Yeah...yeah, we do, Jim. I, uh, need to claim the luggage. Can we hold off on the talk until we get home?"

"Home?" Jim could see the exhaustion on Blair's face, but he couldn't resist the barb. "Do you still think of the loft as home?"

He didn't miss the quick flash of pain in the young man's eyes. "Of course I do, Jim. Look, I know I've been away a lot longer than either of us planned, but I told you I was coming back."

Before Jim could say anything more, his attention was drawn back to the boy still standing beside Blair. The child was shifting back and forth on his feet, looking up at the two adults as though trying to decipher their conversation.

Jim lifted his eyes to Blair's. "Why don't you find the kid's mother and we'll get out of here."

Blair drew in a sharp breath, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he boldly met Jim's gaze. "I can't do that, Jim. His mother is...she's not here anymore." He bent down, to wrap an arm around the boy's thin shoulders. "Jim, I'd like you to meet Nicholas Brett Austell." He paused. "Brett is my son."
~~~
Blair waited while Jim unlocked the loft door. Brett had fallen asleep on the way home and slept still, his small form nestled in Blair's arms. As he moved past Jim into the room, Blair avoided making eye contact. He wanted to put off the confrontation as long as possible, though he was realistic enough to admit that wasn't going to happen.

With a sigh of resignation, he headed for his bedroom, Jim right behind him with the luggage. The older man set his burden down and moved around Blair to turn down the bedcovers. Blair set Brett down gently and pulled the tyke's shoes off, before covering him lightly with the blanket.

He brushed a few stray curls from the boy's face, letting his hand linger a moment on the forehead. The kid had been through so much in the past few weeks. So many changes and upheavals. Blair vowed again as he watched the peacefully sleeping face that there would be no more. Somehow he would find a way to give the boy some stability. Not that Blair knew a whole lot about stability, but he could learn, couldn't he?

He looked up to see Jim watching him closely, a strange expression on the man's face.

Oh, yeah, Blair told himself, as he stood and made his way from the room, this is going to be real pleasant.

He pulled the bedroom door softly to and tiredly found his way to the closest chair. "Okay, I know I have some explaining to do..."

Jim sat on the couch and folded his arms across his chest. He didn't say a word, hadn't said much of anything, in fact, since Blair had dropped his bombshell.

Blair leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, while he studied the floor. There had to be a way to say this without making it sound worse than it was. He had been thinking and planning this talk for weeks, but now his mind was a complete blank. Where's that IQ now?

"Why don't you just start at the beginning?"

Blair looked up. "You into mind-reading now?"

"I wish I was," Jim replied. "It would come in really handy at the moment."

Blair sighed and leaned back. "Jim, you have to know that I never set out to deceive you. I never intentionally lied to you."

"You just withheld some key truths."

"Okay, that's fair," Blair said under his breath.

"You have a son." There was no accusation in Jim's voice, no question, only a simple statement of fact, as though saying it aloud lent it credence. "Funny that this never came up in conversation before."

"Brett wasn't a part of my life," Blair answered, knowing how that made him sound. But there was no way around this. There was no other way to explain the sudden appearance of a child he had never mentioned.

"Was that by choice?" Jim asked.

Blair met Jim's gaze. "Why does that matter?"

"Because I know you, Blair. I know that if you could, you would have been in the boy's life. I know how tough it was for you, not having a father around when you were growing up."

Jim's assessment caught Blair by surprise. The few times Blair had discussed his childhood he had made it sound ideal, which in many ways it was. But, yes, he had always felt the absence of a father in his life. And he had vowed many times that he would be there for any child of his. But he had never mentioned any of this to Jim. How had the man known? Was it so obvious?

"Joy made the decision," he finally said. "It's the way she wanted it. I supported the decision."

Unable to meet Jim's eyes, Blair stood and walked to the balcony doors. Damn, this was hard. But he only had to think about the little boy, asleep in his bed, to strengthen his resolve.

"Jim, I'm sorry that it had to come out this way. I never meant for any of this to happen, believe me. I mean, can you see me trying to raise a child? What the hell do I know?" Blair closed his eyes. "But Brett doesn't have anyone else. Somehow, I'm going to find a way to do right by him. I'll give him what he needs."

He hadn't heard Jim rise or walk up behind him. He didn't realize the man was there until a hand firmly clasped his shoulder. Blair opened his eyes to meet Jim's in the reflection on the glass.

"I'm not suggesting that you can't do this, Blair. I know you can. You can do anything you set your mind to; that's one of the first things I noticed about you. You just caught me by surprise, that's all."

Blair nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. I should have said something before, not sprung it on you like that. There's just been so much going on." He stared out over the rain soaked city for a moment. "This has been really hard on Brett."

"I'm sure it has," Jim agreed. "Not only did he lose his mother, but he's had to leave everything he's known and come live among strangers--" Jim broke off suddenly. "I'm sorry, Chief, I didn't mean that the way it came out."

A small smile graced Blair's lips for a moment. "It's true, though. Brett hardly knew me. That's one of the reasons I went down there when I did. I wanted to spend time with him before...before it was just the two of us. We needed to get to know one another."

Jim turned and headed for the kitchen. Blair heard him putting the kettle on to boil for tea and smiled to himself at his partner's thoughtfulness.

"So," Jim said suddenly, "what now?"

Blair let out a long, misery filled breath, before turning back to face the room. "I've been working on that. Things are definitely going to be different."

"You don't have to move out."

Blair glanced up sharply. How did Jim know about...?

"Someone named Rick called, wants to know if you still want the apartment."

"I, uh--"

"I know...now," Jim said. "I was upset when I heard the message, but I understand now." He came around the island to stand before Blair. "Look, Chief, you don't have to move out. We can work something out."

"Jim--" Blair began, only to be interrupted by the whistle of the kettle. He waited until Jim had made two mugs of tea and returned, handing one to Blair and sitting on the couch with the other.

"Jim, it was one thing to let me move in here and practically take over your life. I know how hard it's been for you to adjust to having someone around twenty-four/seven. Hell, it's been three years, and you still aren't completely adjusted. But having a kid around, well, that's asking too much of anyone. Kids are noisy and messy--"

Jim raised an eyebrow. "And the difference would be...?"

Blair had to smile at the gentle tease. God knows he admired Jim for being able to see a humorous side to this, but the man had no idea what he was getting into. "Okay, point taken. But multiply my noise and mess by ten and you might get a better picture of what I'm getting at."

"Are you saying that I can't teach a kid of yours a few simple house rules? I managed with you...for the most part."

Blair set the untouched mug down and began pacing. He was aware of Jim calmly watching him from the couch.

"What about space? I mean, I don't mind sharing with Brett, he's going to need someone close for awhile anyhow, but he's not going to be a little tyke forever, you know. And there would be toys underfoot, and even stranger food in the refrigerator than there is now. And then there's school, and, and--"

"Whoa, Chief, take it easy. For now, he can stay in your room with you. I know he's going to need you close for awhile, but when you think he's ready, we can move your desk out here, there's plenty of room, and then we can put a youth bed on that wall. They're small enough to fit easily, and big enough for the little guy for a couple of more years, at least. As for the rest of it, we can cross those bridges when we get to them."

Jim stood and stepped in front of Blair to stop his pacing. "Look, Blair, just try it for awhile and see what happens. If it doesn't work, we'll figure something else out."

Blair looked up at Jim, eyes wide with wonder. We'll figure something else out. Not, you can figure it out. What had he ever done to deserve a friend like Jim?

Could they make this work? God, Blair wanted so badly to think they could. The idea of moving out, living on his own again, right when he needed a friend the most, was almost more than he could bear. But was it fair to Jim to stay?

"Just for a couple of weeks, Blair," Jim said, as though reading his mind. "Then if you think it would be better for you to move out, I'll help you find a place close by."

Blair took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Brett's a good kid, really smart, and funny, and polite, and he's really no trouble--"

Jim laughed. "Hold up, Chief, you're preaching to the choir. I don't need convincing." He handed Blair his tea. "So, how old is this genius?"

Blair's face lit up in a bright smile. "He's four. Kind of small for his age, I know."

"Like his dad?" Jim teased.

Blair's smile faded a bit, but he forced his voice to remain light. "His mom was no amazon, either."

A sadness entered Blair's voice despite his best efforts. Jim pushed Blair down on the couch, sitting beside him. "Tell me about her."

Blair swallowed hard, and met Jim's gaze. "Joy was appropriately named," he began, surprised at how easy it was to tell Jim about her. "She was a joy to be around, always laughing, always happy..."
~~~
Jim stared at the report before him, but his mind was miles away -- 4.2 miles to be exact. Blair had gone into the bedroom to lay down with his son -- his son, Jim was still getting used to that term -- not long after their short conversation, jet lag having caught up with him. Jim stayed just long enough to assure that the two were safely sleeping, then headed back to the station. He was hoping the paperwork waiting on him here would occupy his mind. Too much to hope for.

"Well?"

Jim looked up, surprised from his thoughts by the deep voice. Simon stood over him, a questioning look on his dark face.

"Well, what?"

Simon made a frustrated noise and crossed his arms in front of him. "Don't give me that, detective. I know you went to the airport this morning to pick up Sandburg." He raised one hand to forestall the question on Jim's lips. "They didn't make me captain for nothing. Besides, I heard you on the phone yesterday trying to track down his flight. So, is he home?"

Jim leaned back in his chair, studying his captain with an amused smile. He had definitely underestimated the man's powers of observation. "Yeah, he's home. Napping. I think jet lag caught him."

"And I gather from your improved mood that whatever little tangent you were so off about has been straightened out?"

Yep, score two for the captain. Simon had definitely been paying more attention than Jim had realized. Either that, or Jim had been more obvious than he had thought. "Let's just say, we cleared up a misunderstanding."

Jim desperately wanted to talk to Simon, seek his advice as a friend, but he didn't feel right saying anything about Blair's little "surprise" until Blair gave him the go-ahead.

"Jim?"

"Sorry, Simon," he apologized sheepishly. "Did you say something?"

"I was asking when the kid was coming back. I've, um, got a problem accessing that new program he installed on my computer. I thought he could show me what I'm doing wrong."

And you couldn't just ask someone who actually works here and gets paid to handle your computer problems? Jim smiled to himself. He knew what Simon was getting at, but he also knew the man would never admit he missed Sandburg.

"It'll probably be a few days. He's got to check in with the university and take care of some loose ends." Like day care and preschool and baby-sitters...

Simon turned toward his office, calling gruffly over his shoulder, "Tell him to hurry up and get his butt in gear. My computer won't wait forever, you know."
~~~
The noise was barely recognizable as sound, but it was enough to wake a sentinel. Jim's eyes flew open, even as his hearing focused on the room below. He immediately registered the two heartbeats, one marking the slow rhythm of sleep, the other beating an unnatural cadence that spoke of fear.

The sound repeated and Jim identified it as a whimper. He leaned up on his elbow, just as the whimper rose to a soft wail. He threw his legs over the side of the bed, and was about to head downstairs, when he heard his Guide's soft voice.

"Shh, Brett, baby, it's all right." Blair's voice rose a little, and Jim heard the bed springs squeak slightly as the young man shifted his weight. "Wake up, sweetheart, it's okay. It's just a bad dream. Shh, it's all right, I'm here, I won't let anything hurt you, baby, it's okay."

Blair continued the litany for several minutes before he got a response. But it wasn't the one he was looking for, Jim was certain. Brett began to cry in earnest now, his words clear even without Jim's Sentinel hearing.

"I wan' my mama!"

Jim's heart broke at the words, not just for the distraught boy, but for Blair, who not only had his own pain to deal with, but the pain of his son.

"Shh, Brett, mama's not here, baby."

"I wan' my mama! I wan' go home," the child wailed louder.
"This is your home now, baby. Shh, we don't want to wake Uncle Jim, do we?"

A small smile lit Jim's face. Uncle Jim.

"Hush now, it's okay, it's okay..."

Blair repeated his soothing phrases, as the child dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs. Jim sat on the side of his bed, debating whether or not to go down and see if he could offer any help. Before he could decide, the sobs slowed, giving way to deep, hiccuping breaths.

Jim rose and quietly made his way downstairs. By the time he reached Blair's door, Brett's heartbeat had already slowed to that of sleep. Jim pushed the door open a bit, his vision automatically adjusting to the darkness of the room.

Blair was holding the sleeping boy, gently rocking back and forth while he hummed softly. He looked up at Jim's entrance, and Jim had no trouble making out the shiny tracks of tears on the heart broken face.

"We're fine," Blair assured Jim in a whisper. "I'm sorry we woke you."

Jim stepped closer to the bed in order to match the soft tone. "It's all right. Is he okay?"

"He's sleeping."

"Anything I can do?"

Blair shook his head, confident of his Sentinel's ability to see the gesture in the darkness. "We'll be okay. Thanks."

Jim couldn't resist. He dropped his hand ever so softly to the sleeping child's face, brushing the damp blond curls back. The boy looked so small, so vulnerable. It brought out the Sentinel's protective instincts in a way no other but his Guide ever had.

Blair looked up at Jim, his eyes large in the darkness. "He's going to be all right, Jim. I'll see to that."

"I know you will, Blair; just give him time."

Jim turned and headed back up the stairs. Not until he heard Blair, ten minutes later, set the boy down and curl himself protectively around his young charge, did Jim allow himself to relax. It was another half-hour, when his Guide's heartbeat finally slowed in sleep, before Jim gave in to his own exhaustion and closed his eyes.
~~~
Blair had breakfast almost finished when Jim came down the stairs, yawning and scrubbing at the back of his neck.

"Morning, Jim," he called as the detective passed him on his way to the coffee pot. He couldn't help but notice the red-rimmed eyes and exhausted expression. How long had it taken Jim to fall back to sleep after Brett's nightmare? "About last night, man...I'm really sorry--"

"Sandburg!"

Blair was startled by Jim's sudden outburst.

"What?" he replied, tentatively. Here it comes. Here's where Jim admits this was a big mistake, thank you very much, but could you please make other arrangements?

"Listen carefully, 'cause I'm only going to say this once. Don't you ever again apologize for something like what happened last night. It was no one's fault. Not yours and certainly not that little boy's. I hate that he's having nightmares. I hate that his mother died. You're dealing with it the best you can. Just be there for him and don't worry about anything else. You clear on that?"

Blair nodded, not trusting himself to speak around the lump in his throat.

"Daddy?"

The tiny voice startled both men. Blair turned to see Brett standing in the door to his room, sleepily rubbing his eyes. One hand had a death grip on a battered stuffed monkey. Blair caught Jim's grin from the corner of his eye, not able to help his own smile of satisfaction. No matter how many times he heard that word from the boy's mouth, it still caught Blair by surprise, and warmed his heart.

"I gotta go potty!" the little boy announced to the two grinning adults. "Now!"

"You heard the kid, Daddy," Jim said, reaching for the spatula in Blair's hand. "Now!"
~~~
Simon snuffed out his cigar and stood, rapidly heading for his office door. He swung it open and stepped out, intercepting Sandburg as he headed for Ellison's desk.

"Who's this, Jim?" the captain asked, one hand firmly descending on the young man's closest shoulder, stopping his progress, "one of those suspects from the bank heist? No, wait..." He leaned close, squinting his eyes as though trying to make out the features. "Damn, is that you, Sandburg? I almost didn't recognize you. What's it been? Six, eight months?"

"Hey, Simon," Blair answered, trying to hide his smile, "I missed you, too."

"Who said anything about missing you, kid?" Simon fought hard to contain his own smile. "I just would like to get a decently written report for a change. Something with a little more creativity than, 'We came, we saw, we arrested!'"

Blair raised eyebrows in Jim's direction.

The detective threw up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Hey, don't look at me. Is it my fault that I don't know how to BS 'em with fifty cent words like the professor here?"

Blair took a seat beside Jim's desk, letting his backpack drop to the floor. "So, I take it you saved the paperwork for me?"

Jim grinned evilly and shoved a tall stack of reports toward his partner. "Wouldn't want to disappoint you."

Simon leaned against Jim's desk, not especially anxious to return to his office and his own paperwork just yet. Could he help it if he had missed the kid? Damn, did that thought really come from my head?

Jim looked up at his captain, a question on his face.

"Supervising," Simon explained, ignoring Jim's knowing smirk. He quickly searched for a safe topic of conversation to change to. "So, now that the whiz kid is back home, can we switch this week's game back to your place? Not that I don't admire and respect Henri Brown as a detective, but the man has lousy tastes in snack foods."

Simon didn't miss the startled glance that Jim threw in Sandburg's direction. For the kid's part, he looked like someone had just ask him to explain quantum physics to a kindergarten class.

"It is technically your turn," Simon explained.

"I don't think--" Jim began.

"No," Blair interrupted. "No, that would be cool. Sure, Simon, tell the guys it's on for the loft."

Simon watched as Jim shot a questioning look at his partner. Their eyes met for a minute, and Simon was sure some form of communication was taking place. Finally, Jim turned back to Simon and smiled. "Sure, Simon. No problem. Just be sure you bring plenty of money."

Simon snorted in feigned disgust. "Believe me, Jim, it won't matter to you how much I bring."

"I, on the other hand," Blair quipped, "prefer small bills."
~~~
"You sure about this, Chief?" Jim asked his partner once Simon was safely out of ear shot.

"Come on, Jim," Blair returned. "I have no intention of keep Brett a secret. It's not like I'm ashamed of him or anything. I just needed a few days to get my feet under me, that's all." He paused and took a deep breath. "Simon and the guys are my friends. I want them to meet Brett. This way, we just get all of the introductions over with at once."

"There'll be questions," Jim pointed out, acutely aware of how vague Blair had been in response to Jim's own queries. The normally talkative grad student was being remarkably closed mouthed about details that would shed light on the situation he currently found himself in. Jim was trying to be patient, but he had to admit to feeling a bit left out. He desperately wanted his friend to open up to him, let him in on whatever was going on in his head right now.

"I know," Blair said, twisting the pen in his hands and suddenly looking very insecure. "I can handle it."

"I know you can, buddy," Jim hurried to assure him. "Besides, if the kid inherited any of the Sandburg charm, within five minutes he'll have them eating out of the palm of his hand."
~~~
Blair heard the knock on the front door from his bedroom and felt his pulse increase at the same time. He took a deep breath to calm it, knowing Jim could hear and would be concerned. He heard the door open, and Simon's deep voice filled the loft.

Show time.

"Okay, buddy," Blair said, forcing a smile for the kid sitting on the side of the bed. He checked to be sure the boy's face was clean and his shoes were tied. "You look great. First impressions are important, you know. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." He turned around, his back to the tyke, and said, "Hop on, and let's go meet the captain."

Brett let out a giggle as he jumped up on the bed and launched himself at Blair's back, wrapping his short arms around the young man's neck.

"Hey, not so tight, monkey," Blair croaked out. "You're cutting off the air."

Brett obediently loosened his grip.

"Okay, Brett, remember to call Captain Banks 'sir', and shake his hand firmly, like I showed you, okay?"

The boy nodded against Blair's shoulder, and with a bracing breath, Blair stepped out into the living room.

Simon was standing by the table, his back to Blair, but at Jim's raised glance, the captain turned.

"Hey, Sand--" Simon broke off as he caught sight of the tiny face, framed by dark blonde curls, peeking over Blair's shoulder.

The older man smiled at the boy, who shyly ducked behind Blair's head, tightening his grip again on Blair's neck.

"Hey, monkey, what did I tell you about the air supply?"

The boy giggled and squirmed back up so that he could loosen his hold. "Sorry," he said, not sounding at all apologetic.

"It happens again," Blair teased, "and I'm going to let you carry me around for a while! We'll see how you like it!"

This brought a howl of laughter from the tyke. Blair carefully swung the laughing child around in front of him and deposited him on the floor.

"What's this?" Simon asked, smiling down at the boy, who was straining his neck to see the big man. "You bring in a ringer, Sandburg?"

"Wha's a ringer?" Brett asked in all innocence.

"Not you," Blair explained simply. He rested his hands on Brett's slim shoulders, drawing courage from the small figure that was depending on him for everything now. He was very aware of Jim's scrutiny from the kitchen.

"Simon, meet Nicholas Brett Austell. Brett, this is Captain Banks."

Brett obediently stuck out his hand to the big man, just as he had been instructed. Blair smiled proudly.

Simon accepted the small hand. "Pleased to meet you, Brett."

"Brett is my son," Blair added after the handshake was complete, then found himself struggling to stifle a chuckle at the expression that crossed the captain's face.

For a long moment, Simon stared open-mouthed and wide-eyed from the kid to Blair and back again. Then he turned to include Jim in the confused scrutiny. Jim shrugged, but didn't offer a comment. Finally, Simon found his voice.

"You want to run that by me again, Sandburg? Old age does funny things to your hearing."

Blair bent down and scooped the boy into this arms, straightening to hug him to his chest. Brett immediately snaked his arms around Blair's neck and laid his head against him. "You heard me right, Simon. Brett is my son. He's been living with his mom in Tulsa, but now he's come to live with me."

Realization dawned in Simon's eyes. "His mom...you mean..." He wisely didn't finish the sentence.

Blair nodded, drawing the boy closer.

"Well..." Simon seemed to be at a loss for words.

Brett came to his rescue. The boy squirmed in Blair's arms until he was facing Simon. "You got a boat?"

"Do you have a boat," Blair instantly corrected. "No, he's not that kind of captain. He's a police captain. That means he's Jim's boss at the police station."

Brett's eyes widened. "You got a gun?"

Simon answered before Blair could correct the grammar again. "Yes, son, I do."

"Can I see it? Uncle Jim won't let me see his."

Simon glanced toward Jim. "Uncle Jim won't, huh?" He turned back to the boy. "Well, I'm sure that Uncle Jim has a very good reason. Guns aren't toys, you know."

Brett frowned at the captain. "I know! I'm not a lid'le kid, you know." His bottom lip came out in a pout just before he buried his head again in Blair's shoulder.

Simon looked suitably chagrined. "Hey, buddy, would you like to see my badge instead?"

Brett brightened and spun around, almost dislodging himself from Blair's hold in the process. "Really? Is it real?"

Simon produced the thin wallet in which he carried his police I. D. and badge, opening it to show the boy. "The real thing."

Brett reached out to reverently trace the outline of the shield with a small finger. "Can I haff one?"

"Sorry, baby," Blair said, "you have to earn one like that."

Jim spoke up from his observation post in the kitchen. "Maybe we can get you a little one from the toy store that you can carry until you're big enough for a real one, okay?"

"Really?" Brett's eyes lit up as he scrambled down and ran to the kitchen to look up at his Uncle Jim. "Will you take me? Can we go now?"

Jim scooped the boy up in his arms. "Not tonight, Sport, but tomorrow for sure, okay?"

"Okay!" The boy smiled triumphantly, his brown eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Blair groaned loudly. "Oh man, Naomi would just love this!"

Jim and Simon both chuckled at the thought of Blair's peace-loving mother's reaction to her grandson toting a badge.

"I draw the line at a toy gun!" Blair informed the two cops. "You guys want to be all macho and territorial, fine, but there are limits for us hippie punks, right, monkey?"

"Right, Daddy!" the boy returned enthusiastically, drawing more chuckles from the adults.

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of Rafe and Henri. The two men entered the loft in the midst of a loud discussion on the physical merits of the newest temp in records. Their conversation broke off abruptly when they caught sight of the little boy curiously watching them from Jim's arms.

"Something we should know, Ellison?" Henri joked.

"Yeah, Jim," Rafe laughed, picking up on the joke, "you look so natural. You been holding out on us?"

Blair crossed the room to take Brett from Jim's arms. "Actually, guys, he's mine."

"Yeah, right!" Rafe said, taking the beer he had brought to the refrigerator.

"No, Rafe, wait," Henri said, still laughing, "if you squint real hard, you can see the resemblance."

It took a minute for the two detectives to realize that no one else was laughing. They exchanged looks, sobering instantly.

"You are kidding...right?" Henri said cautiously.

"Come on, Sandburg," Rafe said, "let us in on the punch line."

"What punch line?" Joel Taggert asked from the doorway.

"Blair?" Henri prodded.

"Guys, this is Brett," Blair introduced, trying to hide his amusement. "Brett, the one with his mouth hanging to his knees is Henri, the clown next to him is Rafe, and the big guy with the question marks all over his face is Joel. They're policemen, too."

Joel took the boy's outstretched hand with the seriousness in which it was offered. "Somebody want to let me in on the joke?"

"No joke, Joel," Jim said, hiding his own amused smile. "Blair was just claiming ownership of the munchkin."

"I'm not a munchkin, Uncle Jim!" Brett protested, then turned to Blair, his whisper loud in the silence of the room, "Wha's a munchkin, Daddy?"

"Daddy?!" Joel exploded.

"Lord, it's true!" Rafe exclaimed, dropping heavily into a chair.

"Oh, man...Hairboy...I'm sorry...we didn't mean anything--"

Blair finally let his laughter free and was quickly joined by both Jim and Simon, now that the older man's own shock had worn off a bit. Brett, not understanding the joke, just grinned at all of the men.

"He's your...your..." Joel was still struggling to grasp the conversation.

"The word is 'son', Joel," Simon clarified, with a smile.
~~~
Jim watched Blair check his watch for the fourth time. He knew that the young man would be calling an end to Brett's night very soon. The boy had worked his charm on the men from Major Crimes, just as Jim had predicted. Even now, the tyke sat in Joel's lap, helping him hold his cards. Jim smiled as he watched the gentle teasing and laughter between the big, bear of a cop and the tot.

Jim looked around the table, taking in the openly curious glances the men were throwing Blair's way. The young man was studiously ignoring them, but Jim knew that just as soon as Brett was out of the room, Blair would be bombarded by questions. Blair evidently knew this, too, judging by his agreement to extend the boy's bedtime.

Finally, Brett's drooping eyelids could be ignored no longer.

"Bedtime," Blair announced.

"I'm not tired," Brett complained, forcing his eyes open wider. "An' we're winnin'."

This comment brought a laugh from the whole table.

"No, kid," Rafe pointed out, "see, the idea is to have the most of these little plastic things." He held up a couple of chips as an example. "Not to give them away."

"We're not winnin'?" Brett asked, looking up at Joel with big, innocent eyes.

"Well...um, not exactly," the big man admitted sheepishly, "but we're having fun, right? So who cares?"

Brett turned back to Rafe with a smug look on his tiny face. "We're havin' fun!" Jim almost expected the boy to stick out his tongue at the young detective. Instead, he turned to Blair. "We're havin' fun, Daddy." The statement had turned to a plea.

"Well, then, I guess you wouldn't be interested in a bedtime story, would you?" Blair said, shaking his head in mock sorrow.

Brett's face split into a huge smile, and he quickly scrambled down from Joel's lap. "I am a lid'le tired."

Blair stood and headed Brett off before he could run into the bedroom. He grabbed the giggling boy and flipped him upside down before swinging him up and over his shoulder. "Teeth first, monkey."

The instant the two disappeared into the bathroom, it started.

"Okay, Jim," Henri was the loudest and fastest, "spill it."

Jim raised his eyebrows in feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about, H."

"Don't give us that, Ellison," Rafe said. "We have ways of making you talk."

"Give, Jim," Joel added, folding his arms over his chest.

With an exaggerated sigh of resignation, Jim set his cards down. "I don't think I can help you out. Blair hasn't really opened up all that much, yet."

"Just tell us what you do know," Henri suggested.

"I knew something was going on with the kid," Joel said, shaking his head sadly. "First, the mood swings a couple of months ago. I mean, he was pretty withdrawn, by Sandburg standards. Then, the disappearance last month. Am I right, Jim? Is it connected?"

Jim nodded and studied the tabletop for a minute. "Blair has had a lot to deal with the past couple of months. Brett's mother died last week. She was pretty sick for awhile from what I understand."

"Damn," Joel said. "Poor kid."

"That's gotta be tough," Henri agreed.

"For the both of them," Jim pointed out, making sure they understood that Blair was having a hard time with this himself. Maybe it would help them see that Blair didn't need a lot of tough questions right now.

"So the kid is going to be living with Blair now?" Joel asked.

Brett chose that moment to run, squealing and giggling, from the bathroom to the bedroom, followed at only a slightly slower pace by Blair. Loud laughter could be heard from the room.

"I've always thought he had a great rapport with kids," Rafe said. "He'll make a good father."

"You didn't know anything about this, did you, Jim?" Simon asked.

Jim met the man's eyes, surprised at Simon's perception. "It was as big a surprise to me as it was to you."

The bedroom door flung open and Brett flew out, clean scrubbed and dressed in Spiderman pajamas. He launched himself at Jim, scrambling up to give the man a tight hug. "Night, Uncle Jim."

Before Jim could return the hug, the boy had climbed down and was headed back for the bedroom, calling over his shoulder, "Night, ever' body."

Blair was blocking the doorway. Brett stopped and looked up at the frown on his daddy's face. "I said g'night."

"That's not the way it's done." Blair unfolded his arms and pointed back into the room. "Try again."

Brett chewed his lip for a moment, then turned and obediently trekked back to the table.

"G'night. It was nice to meet you." He glanced over his shoulder at Blair. Seeing the smile on the man's face, he smiled himself. Before leaving, he ran back to Jim and pulled him down to whisper conspiratorially in his ear. "Don't forget we're gonna get my badge tomorrow, okay?"

"I won't forget," Jim promised, giving his nose a tweak. "I promise."

"Who would have thought No-Rules-Sandburg would be such a tough parent?" Simon mused aloud when the two had disappeared again into the bedroom.

"This may be good for Sandburg," Jim pointed out with a grin. "We may actually see some of that discipline spill over to his own life."

"I guess you still believe in the tooth fairy, too, don't you, Jim?" Simon said wryly.

"Shh! Not so loud!" Joel admonished. "You want the kid to hear you? You'll shatter all of his childhood fantasies."

"It's okay," Simon responded, not missing a beat, "I think Sandburg's old enough to handle the truth now."

The men laughed, and Rafe began gathering the cards to deal another hand.

"So, how's Sandburg going to manage, Jim?" Joel asked. "I mean, being a parent is a full time job in itself, not to mention his work at the university, and what he does at the station. He's not going to have to drop that, is he?"

Jim winced mentally from the very thoughts he had been struggling with himself since Blair had returned with his little announcement. How in the world could Blair hope to continue his life as it had been? He had barely managed to fit it all in before Brett's appearance. There was no way to throw the additional responsibilities of a child into the mix. Especially one as young as Brett. Something would have to be sacrificed, and Jim was sweating that decision.

"Preschool and daycare, for the most part," Jim said, accepting the cards Rafe slid his way. "Though I imagine he is going to have to cut back somewhere."

"Well, if the kid needs a baby-sitter," Joel said, "tell him to give me a call."

Jim looked up at the man. "Thanks, Joel. I'm sure that'll mean a lot to Blair."

"I'm serious, Jim. You make sure he understands that, okay? My kids are older now, but I still remember how it's done. Besides, the little guy is cute."

"Doesn't look a thing like Hairboy," Henri pointed out. "Must take after his mother."

"He's got Sandburg's energy, though," Simon observed, throwing a few chips into the growing pile.

"Yeah," Rafe added, "and he seems to be a happy little fellow, too. I mean, considering what he's been through lately."

"Kids are pretty resilient," Joel said. "They have to be."

"Still, Blair's got his work cut out for him, no matter how great the kid is."
~~~
"Mr. Sandburg?"

"Yeah," Blair mumbled into the phone, half of his attention still on the open text book before him.

"This is Kelly, from Kid 'N Round Daycare--"

Blair dropped the book, standing in the same motion. Panic squeezed his heart. "What happened? Is Brett okay?"

"Brett's just had a small accident," Kelly quickly assured him. "Nothing too serious. He took a spill from the monkey bars a little while ago. His teacher checked him over carefully, and he seemed okay at the time, but now he's complaining about his elbow. It's probably nothing, but it does seem a bit swollen, so I thought maybe you might want to take him and have it checked out. Just to be on the safe side."

Blair let out a sigh of relief. "Yeah, thanks for calling. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
~~~
"I guess I can't call you monkey anymore," Blair teased the small boy walking beside him as they stepped through the emergency room doors and headed for the parking lot. To Blair's immense relief, the arm was not broken.

Brett turned a confused frown up to him. "Why?"

"Well," Blair said, scooping Brett into his arms, careful of the injured elbow. "Because monkeys don't fall from monkey bars." He leaned down and blew a raspberry against the boy's neck. Brett giggled and twisted away from him. "What say we stop on the way home and get an ice cream cone?"

Brett turned wide, hopeful eyes toward him. "It's not Friday."

Blair laughed, setting the boy back on the ground. "No, it's not," he admitted. Every Friday, when Blair picked Brett up from day care, the two stopped for ice cream cones on the way home. It was a new-found tradition that both enjoyed. "But I think you deserve a treat for being so brave for the doctors."

"Yipee!" The boy squealed, bouncing in place while Blair pulled out his keys.

"Hey," Blair said, as he unlocked the car door. "I've got an even better idea. Let's stop by the station and see if Captain Banks will let Uncle Jim join us."
~~~
A soft movement from behind stopped Blair in his work. He turned in the chair and watched Brett turn over and reposition himself in the bed. After a moment, when the boy showed no signs of waking, Blair turned his attention back to the papers strewn across his desktop. Bills. All of them requests, and in some cases demands, for payment. And, as if things hadn't been tight enough before, today he had gotten bills from both the hospital and the radiologist that had x-rayed Brett's arm last week.

"Bills, bills and more bills," Blair said under his breath. "And of course the hospital wants their money. But where in the hell am I supposed to get it?"

Brett's daycare was eating large holes in Blair's paycheck each week. It was hard enough to stretch the pittance he earned to cover his and Brett's basic needs, and now this. Where was he supposed to get the extra to cover these expenses?

Blair pulled his glasses off and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He'd thought he had it all figured out when Brett had first come to live with him. He'd spent a good deal of time working up a decent budget that would allow for all of the boy's needs. What he hadn't taken into consideration were the extra expenses that seemed to pop up almost daily. And now this....

Well, there was the money Blair had been setting aside for some long over due work on the Volvo. He hated to go into that -- God knows what he'd do if the car quit on him -- but he had a responsibility to pay the bills. "Oh, well," he sighed, "we can always take the bus."

That decided, Blair pushed back the chair and turned out the lamp. He scooted Brett over a bit toward the wall and crawled into the bed beside him.

"I love you, Daddy," Brett whispered into the dark.

Blair wrapped his arms around the small, warm form and hugged tightly. "I love you, too, baby."
~~~
Jim picked up the uneasy mood the instant he entered the loft. His eyes scanned the room, trying to pin down the feeling. Blair was working at the table, books and papers spread haphazardly around his computer. Brett was sitting on the floor in the living room, playing quietly with a handful of small metal cars. The boy looked up when Jim greeted him, and the detective had no trouble reading the sad expression on his tiny face.

"Something going on around here?" Jim asked, his gaze shifting back to Blair.

"Nope, everything's fine." The grad student pushed his chair back and headed for the kitchen. "I kept supper warm for you. You hungry?" He pulled a plate from the cabinet and began spooning food onto it, not waiting for Jim's answer. "The meeting ran pretty late, didn't it? I bet you have a heck of a headache after spending all that time listening to those politicians ramble on. You should remember that the next time you're tempted to complain about my rambling." He pushed a pile of the papers on the table out of the way and set the plate down, heading back into the kitchen to pull a can of soda from the 'fridge. "So, you want some aspirin?"

Jim frowned at his friend's back. Blair wasn't fooling Jim with this act. The detective could read the clues. Something had happened to upset Blair and leave Brett looking like his dog had died. But it was obviously something that Blair didn't want to talk about right now. Jim sighed and sat down.

"Yeah, Chief, I could use a couple of aspirin, thanks." Jim glanced again toward the living room where Brett had gone back to his silent playing.

Blair handed Jim the pills and took his own seat, turning back to his work with a single-minded concentration. Jim took the hint and ate in silence, glancing up occasionally to find Blair hunched close to his computer screen, and Brett playing quietly.

Finally, Blair pushed back his chair, rubbing at his eyes. "I've got to go down and get some books out of my car. I'll be right back."

Jim waited until he heard the elevator door close down the hall, then moved across the room to sit on the couch close to Brett. The boy looked up, and Jim patted the cushion next to him. Without hesitation, Brett climbed up to lean against Jim.

"I didn't mean it," the boy said quietly.

Jim put his arm around the boy, giving him the comfort he seemed to be asking for. "What didn't you mean, Scamp?"

There was a short silence, then Brett sniffled. "I broke Daddy's glasses. It was an accident, Uncle Jim. Honest. I was only trying 'em on. I wanted to see if I looked smart, like Daddy, but I dropped 'em an' they broke. I didn't mean it, really."

Jim sighed and leaned his head back against the couch cushions. Well, at least that explained the mood in the loft. "I know you didn't mean it, Brett. You shouldn't have been playing with them, but I'm sure you know that by now. It'll be okay. Your daddy can get them fixed."

"But he can't!" Brett exclaimed. "He don't got any money."

Jim frowned at that news. Blair hadn't mentioned having money problems. But then, he wouldn't, Jim realized. Blair would struggle to work it out on his own, no matter how difficult, no matter what had to be sacrificed. Again, Jim sighed.

"He was mad that I was playin' with 'em," Brett admitted softly. "But he didn't yell or nothin' when I broke 'em. He jus' got real quiet. He said it was okay. He would fix 'em later. But I know he don't got any money, 'cause I heard him talkin' to hisself. He had to pay the hos'pidle for fixin' my arm, and he said we was gonna hafta start takin' the bus." The boy turned hopeful eyes up to meet Jim's. "Can you fix his glasses, Uncle Jim?"

Jim smiled. "Don't you worry, Scamp. I'll help your daddy get his glasses fixed. I promise."

Brett's face lit up in a bright smile. He hugged Jim quickly, then scrambled down from the couch and ran into his room, only to return seconds later, clutching a small box to his chest.

"I got some money," Brett announced proudly, handing the box to Jim. "I wanna help, too."

Jim was touched by the boy's sense of responsibility, and though he hated to take the boy's money, he could see how important it was to him. "That's very grownup of you, Brett." He opened the box to see two crumpled one-dollar bills and a handful of change.

The boy glowed at the compliment.

"Tell you what," Jim hurried to say, as he heard the elevator ascending, marking Blair's return. "Let's surprise him. Do you know what he did with his glasses?"

"He put 'em in his desk drawer."

"Okay, then, let's keep this little talk between us, okay? We'll surprise him by getting them fixed." He took the two bills and left the change. "This should be enough. Run put your bank up. And remember," he called after the boy, "this is our secret."
~~~
Blair sank back into the cushions of the couch and closed his eyes. His fingers made small circles at his temples, trying to ward off the headache that was taking up residence behind his overworked eyes. It had been two days since Brett had accidentally broken Blair's glasses, and for two days, Blair had struggled to get by without them, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that his original plan -- to wait a while before replacing them -- wasn't going to work. Glasses weren't cheap, however, and they weren't covered by his insurance. So, what was he going to do?

Maybe a part-time job....

Blair gave the idea serious thought. It would mean a little more of a strain, trying to juggle too many obligations, but it would only be temporary. Now, if he could just find a few extra hours in the day. Piece of cake. All he had to go was give up sleeping completely. Blair let out a small groan of frustration.

"You all right, Chief?"

Blair started at the voice. He hadn't heard the door open, but then he'd been so deep in thought he probably wouldn't have heard a marching band approach. He opened his eyes to see Jim and Brett standing just inside the door with matching smiles.

"What are you guys up to?" he asked warily. Jim had taken the boy off about an hour ago to run an errand. Both had been suspiciously secretive, but Blair hadn't given it much thought at the time. Now, with the two of them grinning like they had just unearthed a treasure, he was beginning to wonder.

"We had a mission, Daddy," Brett said, sailing across the room to land in Blair's lap. "Guess what it was."

"Let's see," Blair said, pushing the headache into the background for now. "You were delivering a missile to NASA?"

Brett giggled and shook his head. "Nope!"

"You went to tell Mulder and Scully where Bigfoot hides in the daytime?"

"Nope!"

"Well, then, I give up. You're too good for me."

The boy jumped down and ran back to Jim. "Can I give it to him? Please?"

Jim reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, flat box wrapped in a piece of red and blue striped paper and secured with a ribbon that Brett had evidently tied himself. Brett took the box very carefully. As he made his way back across the room to where Blair sat on the couch, he never took his eyes from his small burden, handling it as though it were a precious treasure.

Blair cast a curious glance at Jim, who merely shrugged.

"Be very, very careful with this, okay?" Brett set the treasure on Blair's upturned palm and looked up with very serious eyes. "It will break."

Blair fought to contain his smile. This was obviously very important, and deserved to be treated soberly. "So, this was your mission? You and Jim went out to buy me a present?" He scrunched his face and pretended to think hard. "It's not my birthday, and Christmas is still a ways off. Did I forget some other important holiday?"

"It's a 'just because' gift," Brett announced with a big grin. "Mama said they're the best kind."

"Oh. Well, then, in that case, I'll just say thank you and open it." Blair pulled the ribbon off and carefully removed the paper, only to stop in surprise as the gift was revealed. It was his glasses case. He glanced again at Jim. The detective had moved over to the chair and was watching the show with a small smile of satisfaction on his face.

Finding no explanation there, Blair looked to Brett.

"It's your glasses," the boy said needlessly. "We fixed 'em."

Blair snapped open the case, staring wide-eyed at his freshly repaired lenses. "I don't understand...." He looked back to Jim, but it was Brett that answered.

"I tol' Uncle Jim I broke your glasses, so he helped me get 'em fixed. Now you can read better again." He leaned forward and whispered loudly. "I helped pay for 'em, too. With my own money."

Blair didn't know what to say. He felt his face growing red with embarrassment at the thought of Jim paying his bills behind his back, but Brett was so proud of the surprise that Blair couldn't help but smile at the boy. He set the case down on the coffee table and drew Brett to him in a tight hug.

"Thank you so much, Brett. I think that's the nicest 'just because' gift I've ever gotten." He looked over the boy's head, meeting Jim's eyes. "Thanks, Jim."

It wasn't until Brett was asleep that night that Blair had a chance to confront Jim. The older man was drying the last of the supper dishes. Blair leaned against the cabinet, searching for the right words. Jim spoke first.

"It's no big deal," the detective said, correctly guessing at Blair's train of thought. "You didn't have the money, I did. You'd have done the same for me."

"Brett shouldn't have told you what happened."

"You think I wouldn't have noticed eventually?"

Blair rubbed at his forehead, trying to find a way to come out of this with a little pride intact.

"Blair," Jim set the dishcloth down and turned to face Blair. "I know money's been a little tight lately, especially with the hospital expenses last week. There's nothing wrong with asking for help now and then."

Blair nodded, not able to meet Jim's gaze. "I know that, I just..." He stopped and sighed. "I knew going into this that it wasn't going to be easy, but I felt sure I could do it. I wanted to do it. I guess I feel I need to prove myself."

"Well, you don't. You're doing a great job with Brett. He's a terrific kid. You don't have to prove anything to anyone. Okay?"

Blair nodded. "Thanks, Jim. But I am going to pay you back, man."

"Okay."

Blair looked up, surprised at how easy that had been.

"Just as soon as you have those three letters behind your name, and you're making the really big bucks that the smart guys make, then you can pay me back."

Blair allowed himself a grin. Again, he wondered what he had done to deserve a friend like Jim.
~~~
"Ellison," Jim barked into the phone.

"Jim, it's Blair. You got a minute?"

Jim set the papers he was reading aside, glad for the interruption. "Sure, Chief, what's up?"

"I, uh...I kind of need a favor, man. I really, really hate to ask, but I'm between a rock and a hard place here. I have an appointment that I just can't get out of. I tried -- believe me I tried -- but there's no give and I absolutely have to be there and I've tried everyone on my back up list and nobody--"

"Whoa, Sandburg, slow down before you give yourself whiplash. Take a breath and slowly tell me what you need."

He heard Blair comply before continuing. "Okay, here's the deal. I have a meeting that I absolutely can not get out of, and I can't find anyone that can watch Brett. I know this is probably a bad time. I mean you're probably in the middle of something there, aren't you? You would tell me if you were, wouldn't you? I can probably figure out something else. I shouldn't have called you. God, I'm sorry, Jim. Ignore me, okay? I'll...I'll...God, I don't know what I'll do. I'm really stuck here, man. You gotta help me, Jim. I'm a desperate man."

Jim almost laughed, but the panic in his Guide's voice stopped him. "Okay, let me see if I can translate. You have an important meeting that you can't get out of, and you need someone to pick Brett up from preschool and watch him this afternoon. Am I close?"

"Dead on. I don't suppose you could...?"

"Relax, Chief, I can cover it."

"You can? Ah, man, Jim, you have no idea how grateful I am. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll cook for a month -- no, a year. And I'll do all the laundry from now on. Great! Great, man. Thanks. I really, really owe you, Jim. Look, I gotta run or I'm gonna be late. Bye, Jim, and thanks."

The phone disconnected before Jim could get a word in edgewise. He sat in stunned silence for a moment, staring at the receiver in his hand. Blair Sandburg could squeeze more words into a single breath than anyone Jim had ever met, with the one possible exception of Brett. Like father, like son.

Jim had no problem with Blair's request. In fact, he was pleased that Blair was finally willing to ask for help. Jim glanced at his watch. He'd have to leave in a few minutes if he wanted to get to Brett's preschool on time. Then maybe he'd bring the kid back to the station for the afternoon. That should put a smile on a few of these sour faces, Jim thought, glancing around the bullpen.
~~~
Blair set the phone receiver down with a quickly whispered prayer of thanks. He wasn't sure what he would have done if Jim had said no. This was the first time he had been desperate enough to call on the Sentinel for help. Always before he had managed to work something out. People at the university had learned quickly that Brett came first with Blair, even if that meant postponing office hours or rescheduling meetings. But this time...this wasn't something he could cancel or reschedule. God knows he wished he could.

Blair threw a glance at the clock on his desk. He had a few minutes, but that wasn't nearly long enough to prepare. He needed more time. A few days would be good; a few years, even better. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm his pounding heart. It was a wonder Jim hadn't heard it over the phone and come racing to his rescue. It was a greater wonder Blair hadn't asked the detective for that rescue. He certainly felt like he needed it.

His eyes snapped open at the knock on the door. Blair stood to answer it and noticed the framed picture of Brett on his desk. Oh, man! He grabbed the photo and shoved it into a drawer just as the knock sounded again.

With one last look around the office to see if anything else was blatantly obvious, he opened the door.

Blair stared at the older couple that stood there, comparing them to the mental image he had long ago formed. They were younger than he had expected, probably only in their late forties, but every bit as cultured and reserved as he had been led to believe. Everything about them reeked of money. And for some reason, Blair found that irritatingly offensive.

"Blair Sandburg?" the man asked, hesitantly.

"Um, yeah, Mr. and Mrs. Austell, right?" He stepped back to allow them access to the room. "Come in, please."
~~~
"Hey, sport." Jim leaned across his desk to whisper conspiratorially to the boy happily drawing pictures on every page of Jim's memo pad. Brett paused in his artwork and looked up. "Guess who I see coming?" Jim pointed across the bullpen.

Brett followed Jim's finger, and his face immediately lit up. "Daddy!" He scrambled down and flew across the room to launch himself into the unsuspecting man's arms. The impact almost sent both of them to the floor, and brought a laugh to their amused audience.

"Hiya, monkey. Miss me?" Blair asked, shifting the boy's weight to accommodate both his loaded backpack and Brett.

"Yep!"

"Have you been good for Uncle Jim?"

"Yep!"

"Can you say anything other than 'yep'?"

"Yep!" the boy said, giggling.

By this time Blair had made it to Jim's desk. He deposited Brett in the chair and dropped the backpack to the floor. "Thanks, Jim. You saved my butt, man. I really appreciate this."

"No problem," Jim assured his Guide. "I told you to let me know if you needed any help."

"I got my badge on," Brett interrupted, pointing to the little plastic badge pinned to the front of his shirt.

"You have your badge on," Blair corrected automatically. He bent down to inspect the badge. "You look very official, monkey."

Brett launched into a very serious discussion of his afternoon as an 'official' cop, telling of the arrest he had made -- Henri had allowed Brett to put handcuffs on him and read him his rights -- and the reports he had written for Captain Banks. He concluded by showing Blair his artwork. Blair proudly declared it to be the prettiest boat he had ever seen, even if it was supposed to be Jim's truck, and promised to hang it in his office at the university.

Jim watched his partner while the discussion continued. Blair's pulse was too fast and his breath was a bit too shallow and rapid. All signs that something wasn't right, that Blair was upset about something.

Jim waited until Brett ran out of breath, which took some time, then asked Blair about it. "Everything all right, Chief?"

Blair met Jim's eyes, and the detective had trouble reading all of the emotions displayed there.

"I'm fine, Jim. The meeting was just a bear, you know? Long, frustrating, and unsatisfactory."

Jim nodded, not buying a word of it, but determined he would get the whole story later.
~~~
Blair sat beside Brett on the bed. The boy was long since asleep, and Blair knew Jim knew it, but still Blair postponed going back out into the living room. He knew he was going to have to face an inquisition when he did, and he had no desire to rush it. He debated lying to Jim. Hell, what was one more lie on top of the ten thousand he had already told? But he couldn't do it. The lies he had already told had been necessary evils, unavoidable. This would just be a blatant lie for no reason other than he didn't want to face the truth. He owed Jim more than that. God, he owed Jim so much more than that.

So Blair stood and made his way quietly from the room. Jim was sitting on the couch, watching the game with the volume turned down to almost nothing. He didn't look up when Blair entered, but Blair knew that he was watching him from the corner of his eye.

Blair took a seat in the chair and waited. He didn't have to wait long.

"Should I even ask? Or will this be something else that you've decided I don't need to know?"

Blair hung his head, unable to meet Jim's accusing gaze. Maybe it was his own guilt that caused the stab of pain at Jim's words, or maybe it was the knowledge that so many lies and secrets had come between them in such a short amount of time. There had been a time, not so long ago, when Blair would have never considered lying to Jim or keeping something important from him. He respected the man too much for that. But now...

"I..." He stopped, knowing he had to tell Jim the truth on this, but not sure how to do it. "I had a phone call this morning. Joy's parents. They found out somehow and managed to track down where she is buried. They found out that I had handled the...arrangements." He stopped and cleared his throat.

"Wait a minute, Sandburg," Jim interrupted before Blair could continue. "Are you saying they didn't know about their daughter?"

Blair shook his head. "That's the way Joy wanted it. There was some...trouble, and she left home right out of high school. To the best of my knowledge, she never contacted them again. She made me promise that I wouldn't notify them. She was very adamant about that. It wasn't my place to interfere with her wishes."

"What did they want from you?"

Blair ran a hand through his hair, not at all comfortable with this conversation. "I guess they just needed to hear about Joy. They asked a lot of questions. You know, where she'd been living, what her life was like, did she suffer much. Just...basic info kind of stuff."

"I'm sorry, Chief. I know that couldn't have been easy." Jim stared at Blair for a moment without comment, but Blair could see the wheels turning, and he knew what was coming. Finally, the detective said, "I guess they were shocked to learn about Brett."

Blair didn't answer, neither did he meet Jim's gaze.

"You didn't tell them."

Blair risked a glance in Jim's direction, but still didn't speak.

"God, Chief! You have to tell them. You can't keep their own grandchild from them. It wouldn't be right."

Blair launched himself from the chair and paced away from Jim. "You can't make that judgment! You don't have all the facts!"

"I'm listening," Jim said, his voice surprisingly calm.

"Joy hated her parents. She begged me to keep Brett away from them, and I gave her my word."

"You didn't have a right to make a promise like that."

Blair spun around to face Jim. "You weren't there! Do you know what it's like to hold a dying woman in your arms, and have her beg you for one simple promise? She deserved to know that her child would be safe from harm, perceived or real. I had it in my power to give her that assurance, and I did. And I'd do it again! Dammit, Jim! You can't sit there and pass judgment on me for this!"

"I'm not passing judgment, Blair. And I'm not saying I wouldn't have done the same thing in your place. But this is Brett's grandparents we're talking about here, and they have a right to know about him. You can't keep him from them. It isn't right."

"How do you know that? How do you know it isn't in his best interest?"

"Blair..." Jim paused. "Blair, you grew up without a vital part of your heritage, because Naomi chose to keep it from you. I'm sure she had her reasons, but if the choice had been yours, wouldn't you have preferred to have known who your father was? Wouldn't it have been nice to have had all the pieces, even if you chose not to put them together?"

Blair couldn't argue with that. Despite his claims to the contrary, he would give anything to know who his father was. Just to have a name and a face to connect to himself. Was he denying something vital to Brett because of some misplaced sense of loyalty?

He scrubbed angrily at his burning eyes. God! When had life become so complicated?

"Blair, did Joy tell you what happened with her parents?"

Blair looked up tiredly. "What?"

"Did they abuse her? Molest her? Kick her out?"

"No," Blair shook his head. "I don't...No, it wasn't like that."

"So they aren't monsters."

"Jim, I'm telling you, she hated them! She had to have had her reasons. Valid or not, it doesn't matter." Blair tried to put more confidence into his voice than he was feeling. Everything had seemed so clear just a few hours ago. Now, thanks to Jim and his moral logic, Blair didn't know what was right anymore.

"I'm not saying you should pack Brett off to spend the summer with them. I just think you should make an effort to see things from their point of view."

And then Jim sucker punched him. He said the one thing that Blair couldn't ignore.

"I know you, Blair. I trust you to do what's right."
~~~
"All right, monkey," Blair said, pointing to the chair. "Park it right there."

Brett climbed into the designated chair and turned a solemn face up to Blair, waiting for further instructions. Blair couldn't help but smile at the seriousness of the boy's expression. Brett had been reminded several times of the importance of behaving, and it seemed as though he intended to follow the directions completely.

Blair knelt in front of Brett and put his hands on the boy's knees. "Listen, baby, this meeting is really, really important for both of us. Do you remember who I said was coming?"

Brett nodded enthusiastically. "Uh huh, Mama's mama and daddy."

"That's right. They are your grandmother and grandfather. I don't know what they'll want you to call them, but we can find that out when they get here, okay?"

"Okay," the child said brightly, obviously excited by the prospect of meeting these people. Blair wished he felt as optimistic. He couldn't help but feel a stab of guilt at what he was doing, as though he was betraying Joy. And he was. Regardless of whether this was right or wrong, he knew he was betraying his promise to Joy.

Damn you, Jim! he thought for the thousandth time. Damn you and your moral judgments!

But even as the curses crossed his mind, he knew he was being unfair to his friend. Jim had a very strong moral compass, and couldn't be faulted for expressing his views on the subject. And that's all the man had done, after all. If Blair's guilty conscience had kicked into being then that was Blair's own fault. As much as he would have liked to, he couldn't lay this on Jim.

"Daddy," Brett's bright voice snapped Blair's thoughts back to the present.

"Yeah, monkey?"

"Are they your mama and daddy, too?"

Blair chuckled at the question. "No, they aren't. Remember Naomi?" He waited until Brett thought about it and nodded. "She's my mama."

"Uncle Jim's your daddy?"

Blair had to laugh outright at that. Brett didn't understand the joke but laughed, too.

"No, Brett. Jim is definitely not my daddy. He's not old enough. Jim is a very good friend."

Brett's face screwed up in thought. "Cap'n Banks is your daddy?"

Blair bit his lip hard. "No, baby, not Simon either. And I don't think you should let him hear you say that." He could see the boy mentally going through all of the men he had met, trying to make a match. Blair decided to save him the trouble. "I don't have a daddy, Brett."

The boy's face lit up in a smile. "Like me! I didn't have a daddy 'til I got you."

Blair returned the smile. "Right! And now we have each other." He wrapped his arms around the boy and pulled him into a tight hug.

A knock on the loft door interrupted the moment. Blair released Brett and finger combed the blond curls back into order.

"Okay, here we go. Are you ready?"

"Yep!"

Blair stood and smoothed his shirt with his hands, hoping he looked presentable. Although he and Brett were both wearing their best clothes, he still felt self-conscious facing the very wealthy Austell's.

Blair opened the door and greeted Joy's parents for the second time in a week. Slowly, hoping his reluctance didn't show, Blair stepped back and allowed the couple to see their grandson for the first time.

Mrs. Austell's hand flew to her mouth to stifle the gasp of surprise. "Oh, my! He looks just like Joy."

"Joy was my mama," Brett said, hopping down from the chair and moving closer to Blair.

Blair dropped a hand to Brett's shoulder, recognizing the shyness that was creeping in despite the boy's excitement. When Brett looked up, Blair flashed him a smile of encouragement that he didn't feel.

"I know that, sweetheart." Mrs. Austell leaned down to put herself at Brett's level, but didn't move into his space, for which Blair silently thanked her. "Joy was my little girl."

"I know," Brett informed her. "Daddy tol' me."

Mrs. Austell's eyes flickered up to Blair briefly, her smile fading slightly. Blair suppressed a frown. The couple had not been at all pleased when Blair had informed them that he had withheld the existence of their grandson from them, but to say that they were upset to hear that he was the boy's father would be the understatement of the year.

Mr. Austell cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Your mother was very pretty. You look very much like her."

"Daddy tol' me that, too. He said mama was the prettiest girl in the world and that I'm the handsomest boy."

"Well, he was right about that," Mrs. Austell said straightening.

There was a moment of awkward silence, while Blair debated his options. He didn't want to encourage them to stay long, but he knew he had to give them more than a couple of minutes before he threw them out. Finally, he gave in.

"Why don't you have a seat," he said, gesturing to the couch, "and I'll put on some coffee."

The couple sat down, and Blair turned toward the kitchen. Brett made to follow him, but Blair stopped the boy with a hand on his shoulder.

"Why don't you get some of the pictures you've drawn from the bedroom and show them to our guests?"

Brett grinned happily. Blair knew he loved showing off his artwork. The boy ran into the bedroom and quickly returned with a large stack of papers. He slowed as he approached the couch, and shyly handed them to Mrs. Austell, before climbing back into the chair.

Blair finished setting the coffee maker up, but remained in the kitchen, watching the trio. Mrs. Austell gushed suitably over the pictures, remarking on how talented the boy was. After a few minutes, she managed to draw Brett out, and soon he was talking a mile a minute, scarcely slowing for an occasional breath. By the time Blair returned to the living room with the coffee, Brett seemed quite comfortable with "Papa" and "Nana", as they had agreed to be called.

Blair served the coffee, using every manner he had ever been taught or observed, determined to make a favorable impression. He retrieved a glass of juice for Brett before sitting down on the opposite couch. Brett immediately moved to sit beside him.

The conversation went well after that, with only a couple of awkward moments, until Brett insisted that Nana see his bedroom. Blair cringed, knowing the woman wouldn't approve, and he was right. She exited the room with a frown on her face, and Blair knew what was coming.

"You share a room with Brett?"

Blair set down his coffee cup and stood to face the woman. "Yes."

"Where does he sleep?"

"In the bed with me," Blair replied calmly.

"I see," she said, though she obviously didn't. "This place isn't big enough for Brett to have his own room?"

Blair mentally counted to ten, not willing to get into an argument in front of Brett. "This isn't my apartment. I share it with a friend."

"Would this be a male or female friend?"

"Does that matter?" Blair wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"Belinda," Mr. Austell said, standing, "it's getting late."

"Of course," his wife agreed reluctantly. She smiled at Brett and patted his head, then turned to Blair. "We would like to spend some more time with Brett. I was thinking that tomorrow we could take him to the zoo."

Blair saw the light of excitement in Brett's eyes, but forced his gaze away. "He has preschool."

"All day?"

Blair swallowed. Just grin and bear it for a few days, he told himself, then they'll fly home and that will be the end of it. "Until noon," he clarified.

"Fine," Mrs. Austell said, smiling down at the boy. "We can pick him up around one, and that way we can have lunch together. How does that sound, Brett?"

Brett looked at Blair, his eyes pleading, and Blair felt himself giving in. It's just one short outing. What can happen? So against his instincts, he found himself agreeing and making the arrangements.

Brett whooped and raced to open the door ahead of the departing couple. He jerked it open and jumped in surprise to see Jim standing there, one hand reaching for the doorknob.

"Didn't know we had company, Chief," Jim said, hanging his jacket on the hook next to the door, before turning and waiting to be introduced.

Blair frowned and made the introductions. He didn't miss the way Jim's eyebrow rose at the couple's name. Nor did he miss the way Jim seemed to fawn all over them. Okay, maybe fawn wasn't the right word, but Blair resented the way Jim was instantly in Mrs. Austells good graces when Blair himself couldn't seem to say or do the right thing around the woman.

By the time the Austells had left, confirming once more their plans for the next day, Blair had a nagging pain behind his eyes from the tension. He glared at Jim for a moment, then disappeared into his bedroom to change into something more suitable for cooking supper.

He went back into the living room to find Brett telling Jim all about his "wonderful" visit with his grandparents. The pain behind his eyes blossomed into a full-blown headache.

Blair went about making supper, determinedly ignoring the conversation from the other room. Twenty minutes later, when he placed the food on the table, Brett was still talking up a blue streak, and Blair's headache had grown to the size of a small country.

Throughout the meal, Blair was aware of the concerned glances that Jim kept throwing his way, but he chose to ignore him, concentrating on his food and the occasional question from Brett.

When supper was over, Blair got Brett started on his bath and then headed for the kitchen to do the dishes, only to have Jim intercept him with two beers.

"Leave 'em for later," Jim said, drawing a surprised look from Blair. "You look like you could use a break."

Blair followed Jim to the couch and flopped down tiredly.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about." Blair stared at the bottle in his hand.

There was a moment of silence, filled with sounds of play coming from the bathroom. Then, Jim said, "So...you decided to tell them."

"Obviously," Blair said, a little testier than he intended.

"They seem like nice people."

Blair shot a cold glance in Jim's direction. "Nice to you maybe. That gives you a little different perspective, Jim."

"Yeah, well, I didn't get their daughter pregnant," Jim observed in a carefully controlled voice.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Blair shot back, attempting to control the racing of his pulse. Hopefully, Jim would think it was caused by anger.

"Only that you aren't likely to be one of their favorite people right now, Chief, and if you'll think about it for a minute, you'll see that. Not only did you get their daughter pregnant, but you hid the existence of their grandson from them."

Blair took a swig of his beer, and let the truth of Jim's comments soak in.

"And it's understandable that you are feeling a bit hostile toward them, too, Sandburg. Your initial impression of them was colored by Joy's perceptions, which couldn't have been entirely objective. Tell me you don't look at them and remember everything Joy ever told you about them."

I look at them and remember that these are the people who could take Brett away from me. Blair closed his eyes briefly, hoping to hide the thought from Jim.

Blair opened his eyes and stood. "I'd better check on Brett, or I'll end up having to mop the bathroom floor."

"Chief," Jim stopped him on his way past.

Blair raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"I know it wasn't easy, but you did the right thing."
~~~
Blair had been wrong. The Austells weren't gone within a few days. They stayed for almost two weeks, and would have claimed Brett every day if Blair hadn't set down some limits and stuck to them.

The advantages of money, Blair reasoned. You can come and go when you want, no one to answer to. Blair couldn't imagine being able to take two weeks off from work and lay up in a luxury hotel with no concerns. But then splurging, to Blair, meant a trip down the aisles at the grocery store without having to keep a running tally. Or buying new glasses without going into debt.

Joy's parents spent an exorbitant amount of money on Brett, buying him clothes and toys, and taking him to places Blair would have had to scrape to afford. It made Blair feel inadequate and...jealous. Yeah, jealous, Blair admitted unwillingly. He didn't like feeling that way, liked admitting it even less. But the truth was, the Austells could give Brett things Blair could not, and that was a hard thing to accept.

But it was Blair that the child hugged every night, whispering "I love you, Daddy," as sleep claimed him. And it was Blair that the boy clung to in desperation when the nightmares -- infrequent as they now were -- brought him screaming awake in the darkest hours of the night.

So Blair found comfort in these small moments, knowing that these were things that all of the Austell money couldn't buy.

But they were leaving in the morning, Blair reminded himself, and then life could return to his version of normal.
~~~
Rafe exited the men's room and almost ran into Blair Sandburg. The anthropologist mumbled a hasty apology and hurried past him. Rafe was startled enough at the quick glance he caught of Blair's appearance to follow him back into the restroom. He was even more startled when he heard retching coming from the stall the young man had disappeared into.

"You all right, Sandburg?"

After a moment, the retching stopped, and Rafe heard the shaky answer.

"Yeah, man, I'll be fine, thanks."

The toilet flushed, and the stall door opened. Blair made his way to the sink and bent over, resting his forehead against the cool porcelain.

"Blair?" Rafe was beginning to get concerned. Everything about Sandburg was wrong. The pale, sweat soaked skin, the fine tremors that shook him from head to toe, it all spelled trouble. With a stab of fear, Rafe's imagination kicked into gear.

"Blair...What's wrong? Is it Brett?" Rafe's heart constricted. He, as well as everyone else in the department, had become completely attached to the little fellow. The thought of something happening to the tyke was...well, it was unthinkable.

Blair straightened and shook his head. "Brett is fine." He turned on the tap, and splashed cold water on his face. "He's okay," Blair repeated.

Rafe handed Blair a couple of paper towels to dry his face, but rather than take them, Blair bolted back into the stall, dropping to his knees and retching again into the bowl.

Rafe hurried to the door and stuck his head out. He glanced down the hall, catching sight of Brown. "Henri! Find Ellison and tell him his partner needs him. Tell him to hurry."

He waited just long enough to be sure Henri had understood the request, then stepped back inside, wetting a handful of the towels before going back to check on the observer, who was now sitting back against the wall of the stall. His face was whiter than any Rafe had ever seen outside of the morgue.

Blair took the damp towels with a muttered thanks and rubbed them over his face. "Sorry, man. I'm all right. You don't have to stay."

"No sweat, Hairboy. I sent Henri to find Jim. He'll be here in a minute, I'm sure."

Blair nodded and closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. When he opened them again, he seemed a bit calmer. He heaved a sigh and climbed to his feet, just as the door opened, and Jim came into the room followed by Henri.

Blair looked up at Jim, then made his way to the sink again. "Sorry, Jim. I'm okay now."

None of the three detectives were fooled by the claim. It was obvious that Sandburg was anything but okay.

"What's wrong, Chief?" Jim asked, moving further into the room. "I thought you had a class this morning?"

Blair looked up to meet Jim's eyes, and for a brief moment his face registered a pain so deep that it could only have originated in his soul. "Jim...I...We have to..." He faltered to a stop, his breath beginning to come more rapidly now. For a minute, it looked like he would have to bow again before the porcelain god.

Jim moved quickly forward, wrapping an arm around the visibly trembling shoulders. "Take a deep breath, Blair. Come on, breathe nice and slow. It's not going to help anything if you let yourself hyperventilate. Is it Brett? Has something happened to Brett?"

Blair took a deep breath, shaking his head. "They're going to take him away from me, Jim. Joy's parents...they're suing for custody."
~~~
"They can't take him away from you, Blair."

"You keep saying that Jim, but you don't know! You can't guarantee that!" Blair heard his voice rising and made an effort to lower it. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little spooked here, okay? Bear with me."

"Sandburg," Simon said, his voice much softer than Blair was used to hearing directed at him, "sit down, you're making me dizzy with all this pacing."

Blair sat in the chair before Simon's desk, but his nervous energy drove him back to his feet in less than a minute.

"I know I can't offer Brett the material things the Austells can. I mean, I really know that. I've thought about that a lot lately. But I can offer him love and...and...and...I can be there for him, you know? I mean, isn't that what's important? Isn't that what kids need? It was enough for me growing up. Okay, material things are nice, I'll admit, but they can't replace real love, right?"

Jim stepped in front of Blair, stopping his pacing momentarily. "Chief, you're going to give yourself a stroke. Sit down, breathe for a minute, and let's discuss this rationally."

Blair stared at Jim's calm expression, drawing some comfort from his friend's strength and ability to remain in control no matter what. That was what had driven Blair to the station in the first place. He knew that if he could just talk to Jim that everything would sort itself out in his mind.

Blair allowed Jim to direct him back to the chair and push him down to sit. Simon handed him a mug of coffee, and Blair concentrated on the hot liquid for a few minutes, letting it calm him. By the time he had drained the cup, he felt more in control.

Jim waited patiently until Blair seemed ready to continue, then gently prodded, "Why don't you start at the beginning, Chief?"

Blair set the mug down on the corner of Simon's desk. "Mr. Austell came to see me at the university. He wanted to discuss Brett coming to live with them in Vancouver. He honestly thought I would just say yes." Blair let out a humorless chuckle. "He was actually surprised that I got upset by the request. He went on to point out all of the advantages they could offer Brett, as if I didn't already know."

Blair looked up, meeting Jim's calm blue gaze. "When I said no, he got a bit agitated, started in on how I wasn't fit to raise Brett, how easy it would be to prove in court. Jim, I think he meant it as a threat. He said they could afford the best of lawyers, and it's true, Jim, I mean, they can, and I obviously can't--"

"Blair!" Jim cut him off in mid rant. "Slow down and back track a minute. There's no way they can prove you're an unfit parent because you aren't. It sounds to me like he was just trying to bully you into giving in to them."

"Jim's right, Sandburg," Simon agreed. "Don't overreact here, and don't borrow trouble. I doubt if there was anything to their threats. And even if there was, you don't have anything to fear from a custody trial. The law almost always sides with the parents in these cases, unless they feel the child is in some kind of danger, which is definitely not the case here. We'll all back you up. We've seen what a good job you're doing with the boy. No one can question that."

"No, you don't understand!" Blair was back on his feet, but rather than pace, he walked to the window and looked down on the city. "They can do it. They can take Brett away from me. If this goes to court, I'll lose him, and I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen."

Blair turned back to face his two friends. They were watching him closely, and Blair knew they were questioning his desperation. But they didn't understand. They didn't know that the Austells could take Brett. Very easily, in fact. So easily that Blair felt his stomach churn again at the thought of it. How could he make Jim and Simon see the seriousness of the situation? They had no way of knowing--

"Blair," Jim spoke softly, "Brett isn't your son, is he?"

Blair felt the air drain from his lungs, but he made no effort to replace it. He knew that his face was displaying all of his fear and pain at the question, just as he knew that Jim would read the answer there. There was no chance to lie.

"How...how did you..."

"It's true?" Simon asked, shocked. "Good Lord, Sandburg, what have you done?"

"I've given that little boy a home with someone who loves him and has vowed to take care of him," Blair shot back, anger creeping into his voice. "He is my son, in every way that matters!"

"Except to the law," Jim said, his voice still soft.

Blair felt himself crumbling at the statement. "I can't lose him, Jim. I can't." He tried to take a deep breath, but felt it catch in his throat, unable to pass the lump that had taken up permanent residence there. He tried again, with the same results. His chest began to heave in an effort to draw in fresh air, and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. Suddenly there were hands on his shoulders, pulling him forward, then pushing him down into a chair.

"Slow it down, Blair," Jim instructed, his voice spoke close to Blair's ear. "Deep, slow breaths. Slow and easy. That's it. Relax and let it come naturally."

Blair responded to his Sentinel's soft instructions, and slowly felt his respiration and heart rate return to normal. Hesitantly, he lifted his eyes to meet Jim's. Expecting to find reproof, censure, and perhaps even disgust at the buildup of lies, Blair was surprised to see deep concern. Searching further, Blair saw the barely repressed pain of betrayal. It saddened him to know he alone had caused that pain with his lies. How would he ever be able to face his friend again? He dropped his gaze in shame.

A heavy silence filled the room. No one seemed inclined to break it, until Simon at last cleared his throat. "Blair, maybe you should fill us in on the details. From the beginning."

Without lifting his eyes from the floor, Blair began to speak, knowing that it was too late, it had gone too far, to lie anymore. "Joy wanted Brett to have a home, someone to love him and raise him with a sense of self worth. Someone she trusted. She was afraid that he would end up in a foster home, stuck in a system that doesn't give a damn about kids." He paused for a moment, remembering Joy's simple explanation to him. She had made it sound so natural, so...right. He desperately wished she were here to help him now.

He swallowed hard and continued. "She turned to me, knowing that I would never turn her down. That first trip I took to Tulsa, she presented her case. I knew then that I couldn't say no, but she insisted that I come back here and think about it. She knew it was a huge decision and that it would cause major changes in my life. She wanted me to be sure. The problem was that time was short. I made up my mind on the plane ride back. It was just a matter of making the necessary arrangements."

He risked a glance at Jim, who was now seated in a chair next to him. Jim looked away, refusing to meet his glance. Blair felt a stab of remorse, knowing it was the lies that stood between them, and that he had only himself to blame. Why hadn't he trusted Jim with the truth? Surely, Jim would have understood and backed him up. That's what friends did. Whether they agreed or not, they stood behind one another. Right? Blair lowered his eyes again, knowing he had screwed up big this time. They could fix this, but it would have to wait. Right now, Brett had to be his top priority.

"Joy had all of the legal work ready for me to sign when I got there."

"So you have legal guardianship of the boy?" Simon asked.

Blair nodded.

"Does Brett know?" Jim broke in, finally meeting Blair's gaze. "That you're not his real father?"

The Sentinel's wall was in place, denying Blair the opportunity to read anything in the ice blue eyes. Blair simply nodded, unable to form words in the face of that wall.

"Sandburg," Simon said, drawing Blair's attention away from Jim, "I don't know that you have a lot of options here. The fact that the boy's mother gave you legal custody has to mean something, but I won't pretend to know how much weight that will carry in court. You're going to need a good lawyer."

Blair appreciated Simon's advice, but he knew that the man was being overly optimistic. There was no way any court would give him custody in the face of the grandparents' claim. If this went to trial, if it came out that he wasn't Brett's biological father, he would lose his son.

"No!" Blair blurted out, jumping to his feet. "Losing Brett is not an option. I won't lose him." He turned and headed for the door, and was gone before either Jim or Simon could stop him.
~~~
Jim debated following his friend, but ended up going back to his desk, deciding to give Blair time to cool off first. Blair's affirmation of Jim's suspicions had caught the detective by surprise. He had expected, maybe even hoped that Blair would deny it. How could he have kept such an important secret from Jim? But then, wasn't that the same question Jim had asked himself when he had first heard about Brett being Blair's son?

Jim dropped his head to his hands, rubbing angrily at his temples. One lie piled atop another. When had this happened? He had trusted Blair with his life, with his sanity. How could so much dishonesty build up between them? Would they ever be able to get past this?

A stab of guilt shot through Jim. He was being selfish, and he knew it. Blair was faced with the devastating possibility of losing a boy that he had come to love as a son, and Jim was worried about the lie standing between them. God, Ellison, you can be selfish!

"Jim?"

Jim looked up, surprised to see Rafe and Brown standing over him.

"Is everything all right?" Henri asked. "With the kids, I mean."

"Blair's not really going to lose Brett, is he?" Rafe added.

"I don't know, fellows," Jim answered honestly. "Maybe. It's a possibility."

"That's not right," Henri argued. "No one could ask for a better parent than Hairboy. He would do anything for that kid."

"Is there anything we can do?" Rafe ventured, his own dismay plain to see.

Jim shook his head. "Just pray, guys. Pray hard."
~~~
Setting the phone down with a resigned sigh, Blair picked up his pen and carefully crossed off another item in his long list. Money. The most formidable obstacle. But that was taken care of. At least for now. Thankfully, Hal was still interested in the Volvo and had the cash to back up that interest. Nowhere near what the classic was worth, Blair conceded, but more than a used car dealer would offer. And right now, Blair didn't have time to search for a better deal.

Blair shook himself from his thoughts and moved quickly to the next item on the list.

University.

He picked up the phone again, and with only the briefest hesitation, made the phone call that would release him from his obligations at Rainier. The lies fell smoothly from his lips, the simple excuse of a family emergency requiring his undivided attention for an indefinite length of time all that was required to buy him the desired leave. What prompted him to request a leave rather than simply resigning, he couldn't exactly say.

"Hoping for a miracle?" he asked himself aloud.

He shook his head at the foolishness of that thought. There wouldn't be a miracle this time. No last minute save from unforeseen quarters. His life to this point had been one lucky happenstance after another. Not the least of which was his timely meeting with his Holy Grail, Blessed Protector and best friend.

Blair pushed away the unwanted thoughts. He couldn't think of Jim right now or he would lose his courage, and that just couldn't happen. This was his only option and he had no intention of letting even the thought of Jim sway him.

"Next...." He turned his attention back to the list. Naomi.

He reached for the phone again, only to slowly let his hand drop to the tabletop. No, that one could wait a little longer. He wasn't quite ready to explain himself yet. He could call her tomorrow from--

Blair didn't hear the door open, didn't hear anyone enter, wasn't aware that he was no longer alone until the voice spoke from behind him.

"Something you want to tell me, Chief?"

Blair started, but didn't turn to face his roommate. His eyes instead fell on the evidence of his intentions laying across the table and across his bed, visible, he knew, from where Jim stood. Blair closed his eyes to the guilt and shame that washed over him. How could he face Jim with all that lay between them now?

"I guess not," Jim said into the silence. "Why does that not surprise me?"

Blair mentally winced at the tone of the words, but maintained his silence, knowing that there were no words to right his wrongs.

He heard Jim move around the table, but didn't open his eyes, unable to face what he knew he would find. Anger certainly, at the deceptions and lies. Betrayal, probably. Disgust? Maybe.

"Sandburg."

Blair opened his eyes finally, but didn't raise his head.

"Blair, look at me." The words were softly but firmly spoken, and Blair found himself obeying against his will.

The ice blue eyes that met his softened on contact, and all Blair could see was a depth of emotion he never expected to find. No anger, no betrayal, and certainly no disgust. Understanding? Concern? Fear? Blair shook his head, denying what his eyes were trying to tell him.

"Where's Brett?" Jim asked.

Blair swallowed, though the dryness of his throat made it a difficult chore. "Still at day care."

Jim's eyes drifted to the list on the table before Blair. The young man watched in silence, knowing that the detective would have no difficulty reading the upside down words.

"So," Jim said quietly, "just like that? You're going to chuck it all and walk away?"

Blair slammed a fist against the tabletop. "No, not just like that, dammit. Why can't you understand? I'm not going to just hand Brett over to the Austells. I have to do something--"

"No one is asking you to do that, Chief. As least, no one but the Austells, and if you just think about it objectively for a minute, I think you'd be a little bit sympathetic to their side of this."<