by Beth Manz
Disclaimer: The characters depicted within this story do not belong to us, but are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount and The SciFi Channel. No money has been made from the writing of this story.
Note from the Authors: In our Sentinel universe, the events depicted in The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg did not occur. Therefore, any "canonical" references that may be found in this story are related to episodes up to and including Most Wanted.
Dedication: This series is dedicated to friendship, for only through caring for others can we truly find a sense of peace and belonging.
Day of Reckoning
Part Six of "The Progressions" Series
by Beth Manz
Part One
"This is excellent work, Blair," Dr. Eli Stoddard enthused, looking over at the young anthropologist seated opposite him at the loft's dining room table.
Blair smiled, warmed by his mentor's genuine praise. "You really think so?"
"Absolutely. The writing is concise and the facts are well documented, yet you've also managed to capture the underlying pathos of the entire sentinel experience. It's so interesting--so intriguing--that the reader is immediately drawn in." Stoddard placed the third chapter of Blair's draft manuscript on the table. "What I've read thus far has
brought many questions to mind, but I want to hold off asking them until I've had a chance to look at the next chapter." The professor gestured toward the stack of papers sitting beside Blair's coffee mug. "That's it there, am I right?"
"Yes, chapter four," Blair confirmed, enthusiasm underscoring his words. "Jim and I were on a stakeout just a few months after we started working together and we discovered that he could use his enhanced eyesight and hearing together, allowing him to actually 'see' things that he couldn't with his eyesight alone." Blair gathered up the papers and handed them across to Dr. Stoddard. "I called it 'piggybacking'."
"Fascinating," Stoddard said, accepting the papers from Blair. "So this occurred almost four years ago?"
Blair nodded.
"And has Jim managed to master the technique?"
"Yes. I think it's almost second nature to him now." Blair paused as he thought of the progress Jim had made over the years. "You know, when Jim first came to me, he made it clear that what he wanted more than anything else was control over his senses. I think that has always been his number one goal."
"And you believe this control has been achieved?"
"I think it has, for the most part. He's able to use his enhanced senses almost as easily as you and I focus our vision or automatically shut out an unpleasant aroma."
"Do you think there will ever come a time when Jim will attain total control?"
Blair shook his head. "I don't know. Just when we think we've gotten a firm handle on his senses, we seem to bump up against a new challenge. Just yesterday, for example, Jim experienced this bizarre auditory spike. He heard this high-pitched sound that almost brought him to his knees. It only lasted a few seconds and I didn't hear a thing, but it really had us both worried for a while.
"And you have no idea what caused it?"
"No. Jim thinks it was some sort of fluke--some guy blowing a dog whistle or something. I'm not so sure, though... It happened twice--in two different areas of town. If it keeps happening, I'll coach Jim to breathe through it and grab the control dials immediately instead of letting the noise and the pain overwhelm him."
"The control dials?" Stoddard asked, confused.
Blair laughed. "Chapter seven."
"Ah," Eli said, nodding his head. "I guess I'd better get reading so I can keep up with all your discoveries!" He pulled the stack of papers that constituted chapter four into his lap and smiled over at Blair. "Let me read through this chapter and then I'll ask you those questions." He chuckled softly. "I imagine I'll have several questions for Jim as well when he arrives."
"Don't worry. He knows we're working tonight. He's--" His words cut off at the sound of a firm knock at the loft door.
"Are you expecting someone?" Professor Stoddard asked.
"No." Blair pulled off his glasses and stood, then crossed quickly to the loft door. Opening it, he stood in silent shock for a brief moment, then a wide, welcoming smile broke across his face. "Mom! What are you doing here?"
Blair opened his arms to welcome his mother into a hug, then found himself pressed back against the door as Naomi ignored the gesture and briskly moved past him into the loft. She didn't smile, nor did she speak. Closing the door softly, Blair turned and faced her, surprised by the cool greeting. "Um, Mom?"
"I want to know what's going on with you, Blair," she demanded, her eyes cold, angry.
"What?" Blair shook his head, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't know what you mean."
"I'll tell you what I mean." Naomi closed the gap between them, her expression stern. "I was on a retreat in Oregon over the weekend. While I was there I met up with an old friend who's been living in Cascade for the past year. She told me that it was in all the papers here that you killed someone. Is that true, Blair? Did you kill someone?"
Blair reddened beneath the onslaught of Naomi's stormy anger. His gaze cut across the loft to Dr. Stoddard. The professor stood at the dining room table, his discomfort obvious. Blair turned back to his mother. She stood before him, hands on her hips, impatiently waiting for an answer.
"Mom," he placated. "Maybe we can talk about this later?" He gestured toward the professor. "Naomi, this is Dr. Stoddard. You remember him, don't you?"
Naomi glanced over her shoulder at her son's former professor and gave the older man a curt nod. "Yes, I remember him. Hello, Dr. Stoddard," she said perfunctorily.
"Ms. Sandburg," the professor acknowledged, moving over to where the two stood near the door. Retrieving his jacket from the coat rack, he reached out and touched Blair lightly on the arm. "Blair," he said, "Perhaps it would be best if we continued our work at another time. I'll see you at the university tomorrow; we can discuss another session then. All right?"
Blair nodded, offering Dr. Stoddard an apologetic smile. "All right, Professor. Maybe that would be best. I... I'm sorry..."
"Nonsense," Stoddard assured him, reaching out to pat lightly at Blair's cheek. "We can finish up that fourth chapter at a later date." Peering around Blair, Dr. Stoddard nodded at Naomi. "Ms. Sandburg." Giving Blair a warm smile, he turned and opened the door. "Good night, Blair," he said, offering the young man a sympathetic grimace.
"Good night, sir," Blair replied, closing the door after him. Turning, he glared at his mother. "I can't believe you did that, Naomi! Do you have any idea how much you just humiliated me?"
"Don't you lecture me, Blair Sandburg!" Naomi erupted. "I won't apologize for my anger or for my entrance. You owe me an answer to my question. Did you or did you not kill another human being?"
Blair took a deep breath, then moved around his mother to sit on the couch. Gesturing for her to join him, he took her hand as she sat down and looked deeply into her eyes. "Yes, Mom, I did. I had no choice--"
"No choice!" she exclaimed, pulling her hand from Blair's. "How can you sit there and tell me you had no choice? All your life I've taught you that human life is more precious than anything else in this world, and now you tell me you've killed someone and you did it because there was no choice?" She shook her head in obvious disbelief. "There's always a choice, Blair. Haven't I taught you that? Haven't I always taught you that any situation can be resolved peacefully--"
"Mom," Blair cut in, his voice overriding hers. "Will you just listen to me for a minute? I can explain--"
"I don't want explanations!" Naomi shouted. "My friend told me you shot this man with Jim's gun! With Jim's gun, Blair! Do you see what's happening to you? Do you see what working with the police has done to you?" She stood and stared down at her son, her arms folded across her chest. "I've made arrangements for the two of us to spend a few weeks at a spiritual retreat near Fresno. You need to cleanse your karma, Blair, get your head straight." Impatiently, she gestured toward Blair's room at the back of the loft. "Please get packed, baby. I want you to come with me."
"What?!" Blair replied, incredulous. Standing to face his mother, he spread his arms in supplication. "Mom, have you forgotten that I have a job? Commitments? I can't just take off in the middle of a semester."
"Of course you can," Naomi countered. "You've had to take leaves of absence before. This will be no different."
"Yes, it is different, because I'm not doing it. I'm not leaving with you."
Naomi pinned Blair with a stubborn gaze. "Oh, yes you are. You need to get away, have some time to rethink this whole 'cop' mentality you seem to have embraced so easily--"
"Mom," Blair interrupted, trying hard to keep the frustration and anger from his voice, "I don't need to get away. I'm fine. I honestly am."
"You're fine. You can look me in the eyes and tell me that you're fine after you've killed another man?" Naomi dropped her chin to her chest. Blair saw her close her eyes, heard her take a few calming breaths; he knew she was trying to center herself, get her emotions under control. When she looked up at him again, tears glazed her eyes and her expression had changed from anger to sorrow. "Oh, my sweet baby," she murmured after a few moments, reaching out to trail her fingers gently down Blair's cheek. "It's like I don't even know you anymore. What's happened to you?"
Blair shook his head. There is no reasoning with her! Taking a deep breath, he stared up at the ceiling, searching his mind for something that would convince his mother that he hadn't turned into the monster she obviously believed he had.
"What is this?" Naomi demanded suddenly, scattering Blair's thoughts.
He looked at her, confused by the question. "What?"
She reached out and tilted his head backward again. Slowly, she ran her thumb across the scar on his chin--the scar from the wound inflicted in the North Woods when Dawson Quinn had held him captive. The scar that was hardly noticeable unless... unless he tilted his head a certain way... Great!
He lowered his head again and reached up to take Naomi's fingers in his. Gently, he guided her hand away from his face. "Mom, it's nothing--"
"Nothing!" Her anger rekindled, Naomi yanked her hand from his and paced over to the balcony windows, then back again. "How did you get that scar, Blair? Did you get it from something that happened while you were working a case with Jim?"
"It's not a big deal, Mom. It's over and--"
"Do I have to go down to the station and ask Captain Banks what kind of cases he has my son working on? Cases that are so dangerous that you get injured and scarred?"
The anger Blair had been trying to hold at bay suddenly pulsed through him. "Yes, Mom. Please do. Embarrass me in front of Simon the way you just did in front of Professor Stoddard. That would be great!"
Naomi blinked several times as his words settled over her. "So, now my caring embarrasses you? Is that what you're telling me?"
"When you act like this it does," he argued. "Mom, I'm not twelve years old anymore. I have my own life and you can't just walk in here and tell me what to do!"
The sound of a key in the front door drew Blair's attention. Oh great! Jim's home! Seconds later, the sentinel walked in. Blair's heart sank as his eyes locked with Jim's. It was obvious from the expression on the detective's face that he had heard the last several minutes of their argument. Every word.
"Hey, Chief," Jim greeted Blair softly. Crossing to the kitchen counter, he set the carry-out bag of Chinese on the surface. His gaze shifted uneasily from Blair to Naomi, then back again. "Is everything okay here?"
"No, Jim. Everything is not okay here." Naomi marched over to Jim and glared up at him. "Care to explain to me why my son killed a man?"
Jim's eyes widened. He stared at her in stunned surprise. "Naomi, I--"
"Stop, Jim." Blair crossed the room in three quick strides, placing himself in front of his partner, facing his mother head on. "We're not going to talk about this right now," he told her, his tone allowing for no argument. "This is between us; it has nothing to do with Jim."
"It has everything to do with Jim!" she exploded.
"Mom--"
"It's okay, Chief." Jim moved up behind Blair and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.
Blair looked up at his partner. "Jim, you don't have to get involved--"
"I'm already involved." He dropped his hand away from Blair's shoulder and gestured toward the couch. "Please, Naomi. Sit down. We can talk about what happened."
"What are you going to tell me, Jim? That's there's a good reason Blair killed someone?"
"Yes," he said simply. "If he hadn't, we'd both be dead. He was protecting himself and his partner."
"His partner!" Naomi let out a short laugh. "That's what cops do, Jim! Cops protect their partners. Blair is not a cop, despite whatever lies you might tell yourself to convince yourself otherwise!" She pointed an accusing finger at him, her voice rising with anger. "You take my son out on dangerous cases, you fill his head with nonsense about what a good partner he is, and now he's killed a man because of it!"
"That man would have killed me if I hadn't shot him," Blair interjected, trying again to make his mother understand. "Is that what I should have done? Let that guy shoot me instead?"
She turned her attention to him, her eyes dark with anger. "Why was he aiming at you in the first place, Blair? Because of something that happened at school?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Or was it because of something that had to do with Jim?" Sighing deeply, she reached out and took Blair's hands in her own, holding them in an almost painful grip. "Don't you see? This only happened because you're with Jim. Because you're a cop's partner. That's why you have to leave with me, baby. Tonight."
"What?" Jim blurted out, taking a step closer to Blair. "What do you mean he's leaving with you?"
Blair's gaze shifted up to Jim. He could see the shock in his partner's eyes. "Don't worry, Jim. I'm not going anywhere."
"Yes, you are," Naomi insisted. "All the arrangements have been made." She turned toward Jim again. "And if you really care about him as much as you claim to, you would encourage this."
"Mom, stop it!"
"He needs this," Naomi continued, ignoring Blair's plea. "He's lost a part of who he is because of you. He needs to get that back and I'm here to see that he does." She let go of Blair's hands and stepped closer to Jim, her eyes never leaving his. "I intend to take my son away from you and keep him away from you. I'll never forgive you for what you've done to him, Jim Ellison! Never!"
"That's enough!" Blair exploded.
"It's not enough!" she shouted back, her gaze cutting briefly to Blair before returning to Jim. "There was a time when I thought my son being here with you was a good thing. A positive thing... until you turned him into a killer." With that, she latched on to Blair's upper arm. "Go and pack. Right now!"
Blair easily pulled out of his mother's grip and took a step away from her, stunned. The anger he'd been feeling drained from him, replaced with a sense of anguish. "You think I'd go anywhere with you now?" he said softly.
She took a step toward him, her expression pleading. "Blair--"
"I don't want to hear any more, Mom. For you to come into Jim's home and talk to him like this?" He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've never been ashamed of anything you've ever done, Naomi... until now."
She visibly paled at his words. "You don't mean that," she breathed.
Blair only stared at her.
Jim moved up next to Blair, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "Listen, why don't
we all just calm down, okay? Let's have some dinner and then maybe we can discuss this entire situation a bit more rationally after we eat. How does that sound?"
Naomi didn't acknowledge Jim's words. Instead, she stood looking at Blair as if seeing him for the first time. "I can see where your loyalty is now," she whispered out after a few seconds. Tears misted her eyes. She blinked hard, quickly regaining control of herself. "I just never thought anything would come between us, Blair." Her gaze flicked briefly to Jim. "Especially not something like this."
"Mom, this doesn't have to come between us. If you'd just listen... You just don't understand."
"No, Blair, I think it's you who doesn't understand." She reached out and placed her hand against his cheek. "Sweetie, don't you see? Simon, Jim--they only care about what they can get from you. They don't care about who you are deep inside. They only want to make you into one of them--that's all they care about."
"That isn't true, Naomi. You don't know how it is--"
"Don't I?" she asked quietly. She moved her fingers down to linger against the scar at Blair's chin. "You're carrying scars because of what you do with Jim, baby. Inside and out." She glanced up at Jim, then back down at Blair. "Funny, but I don't see any scars on him. No scars at all."
With that, Naomi turned away and walked quietly to the door.
Blair closed his eyes, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in his throat. He was still angry with her, at the things she'd said to Jim, the way she'd tried to take control of his life--but she was his mother. He knew that what she was trying to do was all motivated by her love for him. "Mom, wait," he said, turning toward her. "Don't leave like this."
Naomi hesitated at the door but didn't turn around. "I'm staying at the Westgate Inn off I-5," she said quietly, her hand resting against the doorknob. "I'll be there until Saturday morning, when I have to leave for Fresno. I'll stop by again in a couple of days to see if you've changed your mind about coming with me." She exhaled a long breath before opening the door and moving silently into the hall, leaving the door open behind her.
Blair stared after his mother, unable to believe how badly things had gone, trying to think of something else he could say.
