The Promise of Christmas Future

by Cindy Combs

  "What did Naomi have to say?" Jim asked quietly as he leaned against the counter.

  Blair looked up at his partner. "I called her. Don't know about you, but I didn't have the vaguest idea of what you should feed a toddler. So Mom gave me some pointers."

  Jim turned the list so he could read it. "We're going to have to get some groceries."

  "Yeah, but one of us is going to have to stay here in case those guys after Sam find him." Blair ran a hand through his hair.

  "We've got protection. Simon sent over a car a couple of hours ago."

  Blair stared at him. "Okay, what did Joel find?"

  Jim sighed. "Apparently, Sam's as bad at picking out girlfriends as you are."

  "Jiiimm."

  "Roxanne Scott, a.k.a. The Deadly Rose, is an assassin, mostly working for drug cartels."

  Blair's mouth dropped open. "WHAT?"

  Jim shushed him. "You heard me. She's supposedly a very good one, too."

  "How in the hell am I suppose to tell Sam that?" Blair shook his head. "She was his first, Jim. He's still got feelings for her."

  "He's got to know, Chief. And Taggart did confirm that Ian's birth certificate in Arizona lists Sam as the father."

  "I'd rather trust your nose," Blair declared firmly. He looked at his partner expectantly.

  Jim sighed. "Ian's pretty young. I'm not getting much more than general baby."

  "But..." Blair prompted, reading the expression.

  "I think he's Sam's son. But I'm not positive."

  Blair again ran a hand through his hair. "Good enough." Glancing at his ajar bedroom door, Blair asked, "How's Sam? And Ian?"

  Jim smiled as he tilted his head. "Still asleep. But you've got to see this."

  Blair tiptoed after Jim to peer into the room. Sam was sleeping on his back, his injured arm resting on a pillow and his face buried into another one. At some point, Ian had apparently left the makeshift bed in Blair's reading chair to climb up on the bed. He was snuggled against his father's shoulder, blond head tucked under his chin. Sam's hand was curled around the boy's leg.

  Backing away, Blair whispered in awe, "My brother and nephew."

  "Yep."

  "We've got to protect them, Jim."

  "Agreed. But first we've got to feed them." Jim walked over to the door as he scooped up the list. "I'll get the groceries. You try calling Mac and get your shower. I have a feeling things are going to get more interesting."

  1:30 pm, Eastern Standard Time, Gen. Thomas Buchanan's house, Arlington, VA

  Cory sat in a corner chair trying to become invisible. The gathering of the Buchanan family for the approaching holiday had already begun, along with the arguing. It was amazing how, even after so many years, all it took was for two of the elder Buchanans to be in the same room and they would find some point on which to disagree. Currently, his father, the general, was arguing with his uncle, the former peace activist, about the action with Afghanistan, while his uncle, the college professor, egged both of them on. The young sentinel just prayed that no one asked for his opinion. He'd be jumped on by someone no matter what he said.

  Cory didn't even have the possibility of one of his siblings coming to his rescue. Russ was on a covert mission, Mark was in the South Pacific, and Missy wasn't due in until evening. He wondered what had possessed him to come back here. He'd rather have spent the time alone at the firehouse, or better yet join Sam and Mac in Cascade. However, Patty really had wanted him to come this year. Cory suspected that his step mom was still spooked by 9-11. When Missy had asked, too, Cory hadn't had the heart to say no.

  Patty suddenly poked her head into the living room. "Cory, there's a call for you."

  Cory stood up, ignoring his father's glare. Walking into the hallway, he asked, "Who is it?"

  "Someone named Jim Ellison?" the tall blonde reported.

  The joy of getting out of the line of fire dimmed. There was only one reason why Jim would call. Possible calamities to Sam filled his mind. "Thanks, Patty." Taking a deep breath, Cory said, "Hello."

  A few minutes later, Cory was sitting in the loveseat by the phone rubbing his forehead. "How bad is the wound?... are you sure about the kid?... Do you think they'll still try to get him?... Yeah, I appreciate you calling... I know what you mean, I'd call you if it was Blair... Thanks, Jim." He hung up the phone, his thoughts reeling.

  "Are you okay, honey?" Cory looked up to see his great aunt Iris. The elderly woman leaned on her cane, but the green eyes were still as sharp as gems. "Was that bad news?"

  With a shrug, Cory shot her a weak smile. "My partner from work's in danger. But he's in Washington State."

  Nodding wisely, she eased herself next to him on the loveseat. "And you are here." She studied her nephew a moment. "Partners can be very important. My eldest brother Henry, he was an army officer during WWII you know, he said he wouldn't have survived if it hadn't been for his sergeant. Thayer and he did a lot of work behind enemy lines." She paused, openly studying Cory again until he nearly squirmed. "He said that with Thayer helping, he could hear the German soldiers talking at great distances, see snipers hiding, and even smell landmines."

  Cory's eyes widened in shock. "He did?"

  Iris smiled. "Yes. Of course, I'm about the only one in the family that believed his stories. The rest of the family was too stuck in the mud to see what was under their noses. But you believe it, don't you, young man? Because you can do it, too."

  Blinking, Cory struggled to figure out what to say. His great uncle had heightened senses, too?

  Iris simply patted his leg. "Go to your partner, honey. He's more important than listening to your father and his brothers trying to act like they have the only opinion that counts."

  Smiling, Cory gave her a big hug. Then he reached for the phone.

  11 am, Pacific Standard Time, Ellison's loft

  Sam wandered out of the bedroom dressed in a pair of Jim's sweats and a zip-up sweatshirt of Blair's. Holding his throbbing arm close to his chest, he tried to shake off the beginning of a foul mood. A happy chuckle drew his attention to the kitchen counter. Ian sat on one of the bar stools, trying to feed a piece of scrambled egg to his bear. Suddenly, it hit him. That adorable human being was something he and Roxie had created. His heart twisted as he watched the small hand awkwardly hold the fork. They were the hands of his son. Sam had never felt such a wave of awed love before. The grumpiness disappearing, a weak smile managed to cross Sam's face as he walked over. "Hey Buddy, I don't think bears like eggs."

  A jam-covered face turned towards him, lighting up with a smile. "Daddy!"

  Leaning over to plant a kiss on the small forehead, Sam then looked down. His good hand touched the leather belt that secured Ian's middle to the back of the chair. "What's this?"

  "That's how Uncle Blair makes sure someone doesn't fall off while he's cooking," Blair explained, examining his brother over his shoulder. "Why don't you sit down while I fix you something."

  Sam started to shake his head. "My stomach's woozy."

  "Food will help that," Blair told him. "And you need to eat something before you take the antibiotics and the pain pills."

  Not feeling up to an argument, Sam sat down in a chair next to Ian. Blair placed a cup of coffee in front of him. Wrapping a hand around the warm mug, he studied his son's brunch companion again. "Where'd you get the bear, Ian?"

  Ian looked up from his eggs. "Unca Dim."

  Sam glanced at Blair. "Jim?"

  Blair nodded as he dropped a couple of slices of toast on Sam's plate. "Lynn had it in her patrol car."

  Sam nodded. "Does your bear have a name, Buddy?"

  "Yep."

  When nothing more was forthcoming, Sam prodded, "What's his name?"

  "Tubby."

  "Tubby?" Sam exchanged amused glances with his brother. "Sounds like a good name for a bear."

  Ian nodded as he reached for his plastic cup. "Cuz he's tubby." The boy drank the rest of the liquid, kicking his feet.

&nbs
p; "Do you want some more milk, Ian?" Blair asked.

  Ian shook his head. "I wanna play."

  "What do you say?" Sam gently prodded. Ian looked at him in puzzlement. "Say, 'May I be excused, Uncle Blair'." Sam glanced at Blair. "Do you have a washcloth handy?"

  Ian's face wrinkled in concentration. "May I be a, eee."

  "May I be excused."

  "May I be s'cuse, Unca Bear?"

  "As soon as we get your face washed," Blair replied, handing his brother a warm, damp cloth.

  Sam stared at it a moment. "A dish rag?"

  "It's clean," Blair defended.

  Rolling his eyes, Sam tried to wipe off the face of the squirming toddler one-handedly. "Come on, Buddy, work with me here." Finally getting most of the jam off the little face and hands, Sam started to work on the dish towel knotted into a makeshift bib.

  Seeing his brother's difficulties, Blair walked around the counter, patting Sam's shoulder on the way. He bent over, pulled off the towel, unfastened the belt, and lifted the boy onto the floor. Then he dashed back to the kitchen before the eggs burned.

  "Tubby!" Ian demanded. Too tired to insist on etiquette again, Sam handed him the bear. As Ian ran off, Sam simply rested his good arm on the counter and buried his face on it.

  "We're going to get through this," Blair told him as he slid a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. "All of it."

  Sam looked up at his brother, studying him a moment. "You found out something about Roxie."

  "Eat your eggs."

  Sam's eyes narrowed. "Blair..."

  "Food first, then we'll talk."

  Still frowning, Sam ate a forkful of eggs. He glanced over his shoulder and nearly spit the eggs out. "Ian! No!"

  Blair joined Sam in the living room in time to see his brother grab the toddler's hand before it could grab Blair's Hopi doll. "No, Ian. Don't touch it."

  Ian's lower lip began to push out. "She wanna play with Tubby."

  "It's Uncle Blair's. You don't touch it."

  "I wanna play with it."

  "And I said no."

  Blair leaned over, plucked the doll off the lower shelf, and placed it on a shelf above Ian's head. Then he walked into his room.

  A tear joined the pouting lip. "I want Nana!"

  Sam sighed. "Nana isn't here."

  "Here we go!" Blair plopped a pad of paper and several colored markers onto the coffee table. "Why don't you draw us a picture, Ian?"

  The boy pounced on the supplies. Gently, Blair led his hurting brother back to the counter. "Now you eat, then you take your pills."

  Sam poked his fork at the eggs. "I don't suppose there's enough pills to take until he turns 18, is there?"

  Jim stepped out of the market, carrying two paper sacks. Senses on alert, he noticed a familiar figure sitting on a park bench under a large tree. Shifting his path, Jim walked over to the man. "Well, well, well. I never expected to see you in Cascade again, Gustavo." He joined the man on the metal bench.

  The middle-aged, dark haired man smiled. "There is just something about this city that draws me, Detective Ellison."

  Jim smirked. "What's drawing you this time?"

  "It seems that you and Mr. Sandburg are guarding a young man and a boy. What do you know about them?"

  "Quite a bit, actually." Jim turned his gaze to the retired gun dealer. "The young man is Sandburg's half brother."

  Gustavo's eyes grew wide. "His brother? Then why would he be involved with an assassin?"

  Jim stared hard at him. "Sam knew the girl in high school before her life of crime, and she didn't tell him about her new career. What exactly is your interest?"

  "The Deadly Rose has a few things that don't belong to her. A certain group I know would like them back, and believe the young man may have them or know where to find her."

  "Sam didn't even see her; she left the boy in Sam's hotel room while he was out. Even if he did have something, it went up with the car."

  "It may be hard to convince certain parties."

  "It's the truth. Not that it matters, though. Why should we deal with lowlifes who tried to kill a two-year-old?"

  "A few young members were a little too enthusiastic. Those higher in the organization were very upset to hear that the child was placed in danger."

  "They damn well should be."

  "But they are curious why the boy is with the young man."

  "Because the young man just found out he's the boy's father. Which makes my partner the boy's uncle." Jim's eyes turned icy. "You might want to pass on that if anything happens to either Sam or the boy, the organization's days will be numbered."

  Gustavo smiled. "You and Sandburg would turn in your shields to seek justice, no?"

  "Sandburg and I would be the least of their worries. Blair and Sam's father is a former international agent and an explosives expert. Luckily, he rarely loses his temper. Hurting his family, especially his first grandchild, would sign someone's death warrant."

  Gustavo nodded. "I, too, do not wish harm to an innocent child and I owe Mr. Sandburg a great debt for trying to help Maya. I will pass on your information."

  Jim nodded in return. "Thank you."

  Sam stared at Blair in shock. "An assassin? Roxie?"

  "I know this is hard," Blair sympathized.

  Sam slowly shook his head. "I just don't understand. Roxie's a tough girl, but I never thought she'd do anything like this. But then, I never thought she'd keep something like having my kid from me, either. It just--"

  A cry preceded an avalanche of sound behind them. Sam and Blair turned around to see the last of the large CD collection flow across the hard wood floor. In the center sat Ian, one hand clutching Tubby and the other holding the arm of the forbidden doll. It was obvious that the toddler had climbed up the CD case to reach his goal. Now he was crying for Nana at the top of his lungs.

  Sam closed his eyes a moment, then walked over. He quickly ran his hand over his crying son to check for injuries. Then he pulled the doll out of his hand. "What did I tell you about this?" Ian looked up at him, eyes huge. "Ian, what did I say?"

  "Don't toth it."

  "What did you do?... Ian?"

  "I toth it."

  "That was being bad, Ian. See the mess you made. Now, tell Uncle Blair you're sorry."

  Ian looked up at Blair. "I'm sorry, Unca Bear."

  "Now you need to be punished." Sam looked at Blair. "Mind putting a chair in the corner for me?" Sam turned back to Ian. "You are going to sit in the chair and stare at the corner until I say you can leave. Understand?"

  "I want Nana," the boy whimpered.

  Sam tipped the head up to look into Ian's eyes. "Nana's not here, Buddy. You have to listen to me." He led Ian by the hand and sat the boy in the chair. Leaving the child crying in the corner, he returned to where Blair was picking up the CDs. "Why is it that now I feel like the bad guy?"

  Blair gave him a comforting smile. "He's testing your limits. If you don't lay down the rules now, he'll walk all over you. Then in fifteen years, Jim and I'll be arresting him."

  "Yeah, I know." Sam wiped a hand over his face. "I'm just not sure how much more of this I can take."

  Blair stopped him when Sam reached for a fallen CD. "I'll pick it up. I know how much gunshot wounds can take out of you, so you just sit down and try to rest."

  Sam sighed as he sat. "I just feel like I'm being pulled in too many directions at once."

  "Like I said, we'll get through this. Just let me help."

  A couple of minutes later, the front door opened. Jim glanced into the living area as he entered carrying the sacks. Noticing the CDs scattered across the floor, he lifted an eyebrow. Blair turned his head to the corner. Spotting Ian facing the corner and Sam looking spent on the couch, it only took Cascade's best detective a moment to connect the dots.

  Blair joined his partner in the kitchen to help unload the sacks. "How's Sam doing?" Jim asked softly as he placed two boxes of Goldfish in the cupboard.

  Glancing
over his shoulder, Blair sighed. "Hurting, stressed out and still in shock. Too much has hit him in too short a time."

  Jim nodded. "How's fatherhood going?"

  Blair smirked. "He's doing pretty good so far. Ian's just trying to figure out where the boundaries are and hit one hard."

  "I noticed. Did you reach your Dad?"

  "No." Blair paused as he placed the gallon jug of milk in the refrigerator. "No answer at work or home, and he's not answering his cell. He might be on his way to the airport."

  "By the way, I don't want Sam or Ian to leave the loft for now."

  Blair's brow wrinkled. "Yeah, caught that before. What's up now?"

  "I ran into Maya's uncle."

  "Gustavo?"

  "Who's Gustavo?"

  Blair and Jim turned to spy Sam, one hip leaning against the counter as he held his injured arm close to his body.

  "A former arms dealer from Chile," Blair explained. "I dated his niece once." Blair turned back to Jim.

  "You tell him about Roxie?" Jim asked.

  "Yeah," Sam sighed, face hurt and grim.

  Jim clenched his jaw. He hated to add to Sam's burden. "Roxie has apparently crossed what Gustavo called an 'Organization'."

  "Probably an illegal organization," Blair inserted.

  "Right. Anyway, they think Sam knows where Roxie is."

  "Yeah, right. Then why shoot at me?" Sam asked. "I can't say anything if they kill me."

  Jim shrugged. "Gustavo said someone got too enthusiastic. The Organization wasn't too happy that a child was in the crossfire."

  "What do they want, a gold star?" Blair grumbled.

  "So if they're shooting at me, what about Roxie?" Sam asked worriedly.

  Jim and Blair exchanged glances. "We don't know," Jim replied.

  "Maybe that's why she left Ian with you -- she was trying to protect him," Blair offered.

  Sam's eyes were looking inward. "I just don't understand any of this. I suspected Roxie's job might not be entirely on the up and up. That's why I didn't look for her harder after Mexico. But killing people? And why didn't she tell me about Ian?"