by Beth Manz
Jim moved up close behind him, his hands coming to rest on Blair's shoulders. "I'll go talk to her," he offered.
"No, don't," Blair said, knowing it was best to let her cool down, knowing there would be no reasoning with Naomi tonight. "I'll call her tomorrow and try to talk to her, make her see reason. But I'm not going to be bullied or made to feel guilty about the choices I make about my own life."
"I just don't want to be responsible--"
"You're not," Blair insisted, turning to look up at Jim. "But for now... let's just drop it, all right? I can't deal with any more of this tonight." He moved to close the door, glancing briefly down the hallway, a part of him hoping to see his mother waiting there.
But the hallway was empty. Naomi was gone.
/
/
/
Blair held the phone to his ear and listened to the sound of ringing on the other end. Eight... nine... ten... He was just about to hang up when the desk clerk's voice came across the line. "I'm sorry, sir, there's no answer at that room. Could I leave a message for Ms. Sandburg?"
Blair exhaled softly. "No, that's not necessary. I left a message earlier. Thanks anyway."
"You're welcome, sir," the cheerful voice replied, then Blair heard the soft buzz of the dial tone as the call was disconnected.
He dropped the receiver into its cradle, pushed his chair away from the desk, and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, he was distracted, and he was beginning to worry. Last night Naomi had made it sound like she wanted to hear from him--that she would be waiting for his call. But he'd tried all day to reach her at the Westgate--between classes, at lunch. No answer.
Well, maybe she's off cooling down somewhere... I hope so.
Slowly, Blair stood. Pulling his backpack to the center of his desk, he began to fill it with the books and papers he needed to take home with him. He'd been at the university all day but tomorrow was his--no classes, no office hours--which meant he could spend some time at the station with Jim and perhaps even work a bit on the notes for next week's classes. Maybe by tomorrow this whole thing with Naomi will be settled and I'll be able to concentrate, he thought to himself.
It had been a long day--a frustrating day. He felt like he'd taught his classes on something close to automatic pilot. He'd been so distracted by thoughts of his confrontation with Naomi that he'd been unable to concentrate fully on any given thing throughout the day. He was happy to be going home at last--he'd call the Westgate again from the loft in hopes of reaching his mother.
Or maybe she'll stop by later. He missed her, hated the thought that there was an emotional wedge between them.
As he zipped the backpack closed, a knock sounded at his door. Oh, no. Not another student with questions about a term paper. Immediately, he berated himself for the thought. "It's open," he called out.
"Blair, my boy!"
Blair looked up to see Dr. Stoddard entering. He relaxed immediately, warmed by the professor's fond smile.
"I was hoping I'd catch you," Eli said, walking up to Blair's desk. "I just wanted to see if everything worked out after I left last night."
Blair gave Dr. Stoddard a rueful smile, then dropped back down into his seat. Scooting the backpack to the side of the desk, he looked up at his mentor and said, "Actually, things went downhill after you left. Fast." He let out a long, frustrated breath. "My mother just does not like me working with Jim."
"You can't blame her for worrying, Blair." Eli seated himself in one of the chairs in front of Blair's desk. "I worry about that myself a bit."
"I know," Blair said, warmed by the professor's quiet admission. "It's just hard because Naomi doesn't understand why I'm with Jim, and I can't really tell her."
"Have you considered telling her? Perhaps that's the solution to your problem."
Blair looked down at his hands where they rested in his lap, then up at Eli again. "Don't get me wrong, Dr. Stoddard. I love my mom. More than anything. But to tell her about Jim?" He shook his head slowly. "I just don't think that's the best idea. I worry that without even realizing it she might say something to someone. Naomi has a heart of gold and would never hurt anyone intentionally. But... well, sometimes she doesn't know when to keep things to herself."
"I see," Eli said.
"I realize that if she knew, then things would be okay," Blair continued. "At least, I think they would. I don't know... Some of the things she said last night really took me off guard. She basically blamed all my problems on Jim and ordered me to go with her to California for some spiritual retreat. It was like I was in elementary school again."
Dr. Stoddard nodded in understanding. "She's your mother, Blair. She's trying to protect you. She just wants her son to be safe and happy. That's what every parent wants."
"I know. I just don't like the method she's using for assuring my happiness." Blair frowned as he leaned forward and rested his arms on top of his desk. "She thinks Jim's using me," he finished softly.
He hated the words--hated the way they sounded as he spoke them. Hated it that his mother thought Jim had only his own interests at heart. She couldn't be more wrong.
"Does it bother you that she thinks that?" Dr. Stoddard's question cut through his thoughts.
"Yes," he admitted. "It wouldn't have bothered me at one point, at the beginning, because when Jim and I first started out, we were kind of using each other. I wanted to get my doctorate and Jim wanted control over his senses. We both figured we'd work together for as long as it took to achieve those two goals and then we'd go our separate ways. But over the years... Over the years it's just become so much more than that."
"Blair, the deep friendship that you and Jim share is obvious to anyone who'll take the time to look. I noticed it immediately. Surely Naomi must see it, too."
"I thought she did, Dr. Stoddard. But I guess I was wrong." He paused as he thought of how different his life with Jim was from the life he had had with his mother. "When I was growing up, my mom wanted to expose me to as many different experiences as she could, so we spent most of my childhood traveling from one place to another. And it was great; I don't regret it at all. But now..."
"Now you've found a home," Stoddard finished for him.
"Yes. But how do I tell my mom that without hurting her more? In her mind, my home is with her, wherever she happens to be at the time. But for me... for me, home is here now. In Cascade."
"With Jim."
"Yes," Blair confirmed quietly. "And my mom... the way she acted, it was like she thought I was choosing Jim over her because I refused to leave with her. That was kind of the breaking point for both of us." He pushed up from his desk and walked slowly to the small window beyond his filing cabinet. He stared out for several seconds, not really seeing the deserted lawn area that extended over to the university's bell tower and administration building in the distance--seeing instead the anger and hurt that had haunted his mother's eyes. Turning, he faced Dr. Stoddard again. "I hate the idea of my mom being upset, but the things she said..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I just don't feel like she respects my choices in life at all."
Eli stood and walked over to Blair. Reaching out, he placed his hands on Blair's upper arms and squeezed firmly. "Then you have to explain that to her, Blair. The same way you just explained it to me."
Blair exhaled a short, derisive laugh. "You saw her last night, Dr. Stoddard. She's not exactly in a receptive mood right now."
Eli placed a warm hand against Blair's cheek. "She's your mother," he whispered. "She loves you. She'll come around; just give her some time."
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/
Jim balled up the official Cascade PD Incident Report Form and tossed it irritably at the wastepaper basket next to his desk. The ball of paper hit the lip of the basket and bounced off, landing on the floor and rolling out of sight beneath Jim's desk. The detective scowled in the direction of the errant paper and muttered to himself as he withdrew a clean form from his drawer. Sighing deeply, h
e leaned over the paper and started again.
He tried to ignore the aching stiffness in his neck and shoulders. He'd lost count of how many times he'd tried to fill out the report regarding the Montgomery Street home invasions--an ongoing case that he and Joel had finally tied up that afternoon.
He'd been distracted all day, but it had become especially difficult to concentrate once he'd sat down at his desk and commenced the requisite paperwork. His mind kept going over the scene that had played itself out at the loft the evening before. He kept seeing the anger that had blazed in Naomi's eyes, kept hearing her accusations.
He didn't know what bothered him more--Naomi's scathing indictment regarding his influence on Blair or the fact that she had driven a painful wedge between herself and her son. Jim knew how much Blair adored his mother. This has to be killing him--it has to be killing them both.
"Detective Ellison?" A soft voice interrupted his troubled thoughts and he looked up to find one of the clerks from Records standing in front of him. He smiled up at her, noting with interest that her face flushed slightly when he did so.
Hannah Merrick had been hired at the Cascade PD several months ago--right about the time of the Quinn incident, if Jim remembered correctly. His ever-flirtatious roommate had tried to attract her interest, but it had soon become obvious that it was Jim who Hannah seemed to favor. Shy, even mousy in some ways, she kept her displays of interest tentative and subtle. Jim was flattered.... but not really interested. So, he smiled and was polite to her, but did nothing to lead her on.
"Hello, Hannah," he greeted the petite woman. "What do you have for me there?"
Holding out a large envelope, Hannah blushed an even deeper shade of pink and answered quietly: "It's the information on last year's Wilder Street home invasions. Detective Taggert thought the MO sounded familiar to the ones on Montgomery and asked me to bring the files to him." She turned and gestured toward Joel's empty desk. "But it looks like he's gone home for the evening."
"I see." Jim accepted the envelope from Hannah. "He told me he'd asked for this. I'll take a look at it and see if it'll help us. If not, I'll be sure to return the file to you tomorrow."
"Okay," Hannah responded. "Then... maybe I'll see you tomorrow?"
There was a tone of hope in the veiled invitation, and Jim smiled warmly. "I'll be sure to deliver this to you in person."
Hannah smiled widely. "Thank you, Jim," she said softly, then turned and made her way across the bullpen toward the elevator.
Jim watched her for a few seconds, smiling to himself. Sandburg would have loved this. Ever since Blair had become aware that Hannah was attracted to Jim, the young man had not stopped considering the possibilities--encouraging the detective to ask her out, teasing Jim about every trip he made to Records, smiling knowingly and waggling his eyebrows whenever Jim and Hannah had even the most benign and business-like conversation.
Jim turned back to the Incident Report, determined to put Hannah out of his mind. He liked her, had to admit that her warm smile brightened some of the darker days in the office--but he just wasn't interested enough to ask her out. But it gave Blair something to ponder, so he kept his feelings regarding Hannah to himself and let Sandburg plot and plan to his heart's content.
He was making progress--was nearly three-quarters of the way through the report--when Simon's door opened and the captain's booming voice called his name: "Ellison, the chief just called. He's on his way over to meet with me. I need you to stay tonight."
Jim sighed and looked up at Simon. "Is it really crucial, Captain?" He looked around the bullpen, noted the few officers and detectives who were interviewing people or quietly doing paperwork, and he lowered his voice. "I'd like to get out of here on time tonight if I can."
Simon walked up to his desk and stared down at Jim, his arms folded across his chest. "Yes, it's crucial. The Chief's getting some pressure on the Susan Edwards case. Says he needs a few more details in order to get the Edwards' attorney off his back."
"He has my report, Simon," Jim said wearily.
"I know, but he says he has questions. And you're the best man to answer those questions. I told him you'd stay."
Jim closed his eyes for a moment and then looked up at his captain. "Fine, sir. I'll stay."
"Is something wrong, Jim?" Simon asked, concern lacing his words. "I can try to keep the meeting short--"
"No, it's all right, Simon." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "It's just that Naomi's in town and she and Blair are having some problems. I just thought maybe Blair would want to talk about it tonight."
"What? The kid can't handle his own mother? C'mon, Jim..."
"You don't understand, sir. She found out about Blair shooting the hit man that Grant hired to come after him. She's convinced that Blair's involvement with me is leading to his moral and emotional downfall, and she's trying to get him to leave Cascade with her--permanently."
"You're joking," Simon drawled out slowly.
"I wish I were."
"You don't think he's going to leave with her, do you?"
"Not a chance. But that doesn't mean she isn't going to make his life miserable trying to convince him."
Simon shook his head. "Poor kid," he muttered under his breath. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Well..." A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of Jim's mouth. "You might want to keep your office door locked. Your name did come up in the conversation last night..."
"Oh, great," Simon said, rolling his eyes. "That's all I need--another one of Naomi Sandburg's lectures."
Jim chuckled lightly. "So, when's the chief supposed to arrive?"
Simon glanced at his watch. "Twenty minutes."
Jim nodded. "That gives me time to call Blair and tell him I'll be late."
As Simon turned toward his office, Jim picked up the phone and hit the speed dial for the loft.
"Hello?" Blair's voice came across the line.
"Chief, it's me."
"Hey, Jim. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine. Just wanted to let you know I'm stuck at the station. I'm not sure when I'll be home so don't wait dinner for me, all right?"
"Sure. Okay. Does Simon have you on a case tonight? I can come down and help..."
"No, nothing like that." Jim smiled at Blair's offer to come to the station--the kid was always willing to help. "Simon and I have a meeting with the chief. I'd like to think it'll be short, but you know how the chief can be... sort of long-winded."
"He's a bag of air, Jim," Blair commented dryly. But despite his attempt at humor, he sounded down to Jim, depressed.
"Have you heard from your mom?" he asked.
There was a moment's silence on the other end, then Blair's voice came across the line again--even more subdued than before: "No, I haven't. I tried to reach her all day but there's been no answer in her room."
"You going to keep trying?"
"Yeah, I think so. But I have a feeling she's either out or just isn't ready to talk with me yet."
"I can't imagine Naomi not wanting to talk to you, Blair. No matter how ugly things got last night, I'm sure she wouldn't just ignore you. She's probably out with friends or something."
"Or something," Blair muttered. "So, how's your hearing, man?" he asked, changing the subject. "You have any more of those sensory spikes?"
"No, nothing today."
"Okay, just remember what I told you--until we can figure out what's going on, you need to try to breathe through them and grab the dials as quickly as you can."
"Don't I always listen to you?"
Blair exhaled a short huff of laughter. "Uh huh."
"Okay, Chief," Jim said. "I'm gonna get back to a report I'm trying to finish."
"All right. I'll see you later."
"Oh, and Blair?" Jim caught him before he had a chance to hang up. "About this thing with Naomi... Why don't you wait up for me? When I get home we can talk about it. If you want to, that is..."
Ther
e was a brief pause and then Blair said softly, "Yeah. Actually, I'd like that."
"Good. I'll be home as soon as I can."
Jim said good-bye to his partner and hung up the phone. A small flame of anger toward Naomi Sandburg took root inside him. You breeze into town, turn your son's world upside down, then make yourself unavailable. You're a piece of work, lady. A real piece of work.
Part Two
Blair stifled a yawn as he padded out of his room, his stockinged feet making little noise on the hardwood floor. He glanced at the clock above the sink as he tucked his tee-shirt into the waistband of his sweat pants and moved to the living area. 9:43 p.m. Evidently Jim's meeting with the chief was lasting longer than the detective had anticipated. A tiny frown formed at the corners of Blair's mouth as he thought about his partner sitting in a room with Cascade's pompous police chief, listening to the man's droning prattle. Just keep your mouth shut, buddy, he shot a silent plea to his absent friend. Don't let that famous Ellison temper get the best of you...
As he dropped onto the couch, he considered trying to reach Naomi at the Westgate--again--but quickly abandoned the thought. He'd tried all evening to call her with no success. The sadness that had plagued him all day washed over him in a wave, catching at his breath and grasping his heart in a painful grip. It wasn't like Naomi to be this remote--this cold...
Just let it go, Sandburg, there's nothing you can do about it tonight.
Determined to put his worry aside and deal with his mother in the morning, Blair reached out and grabbed up the television remote. Pushing the mute button, he watched Bruce Willis mouth silent wisecracks at Alan Rickman for a few seconds. Yawning again, Blair reached behind him, pulled the throw from the back of the sofa and tucked it around his body. Plumping one of the couch cushions, he stretched out, finding a comfortable position on his side. Through half-slitted eyelids, he watched Willis pull his gun from where it was taped to his back and shoot Rickman. As the villain slipped to the ground, Blair's eyes slipped shut...
A ripping, tearing sound brought him back to awareness. Blair blinked, trying to push past the sleep that had claimed him. The loft was bathed in soft lamplight, the muted television displayed a local ten o'clock news anchor silently reporting the day's stories.
