by Beth Manz
Blair turned his head toward him. "Jim, please," he whispered out. "Could we please not talk about this?"
"Do you really think that's even an option, Chief?" Jim paused to gauge Blair's reaction. Okay, so he hasn't bolted and run yet. Keep going. "This isn't going to go away by itself. You know that."
Blair picked up a small twig that had embedded itself in the sand. He studied it for a few seconds, then tossed it away. "I know," the young man answered. "But I just don't think that this is the best time to talk about it." Sitting up straighter, he shifted around until he was seated cross-legged, facing Jim. "I mean, we've had this trip planned for weeks. Just the two of us. No stress, no worries. And that's the way I want it to be." He turned his face toward the ocean. "I just... I don't want us to spend this week dealing with my demons."
"Then when should we deal with them, Blair?" Jim countered softly. He watched Blair hang his head, but again, the kid didn't appear to be contemplating walking away from the difficult conversation.
"When, Chief?" Jim repeated. "When we're back in Cascade, both of us running twenty different directions trying to meet all our obligations? If you ask me," he said, gesturing toward the long expanse of beach, "This is the perfect time and the perfect place to deal with what's bothering you. It's quiet, it's peaceful. And we don't have any agendas or schedules."
When Sandburg didn't respond, he reached out and tapped at the underside of Blair's chin. When Blair looked at him, he continued, "And believe me, I'd rather talk about what's bugging you than let things keep going the way they have been. I'm worried about you," he finished quietly.
Blair brought one shaky hand up and rubbed it over his face. He swallowed deeply, and when he looked up at Jim again, his eyes were shimmering with a mist of tears. "I'm sorry I've worried you, Jim. That was never my intention."
"I know that. But I still worry, whether you want me to or not." Jim exhaled a low chuckle. "It's a genetic Ellison trait; I can't help myself."
The statement elicited a tiny smile from Blair. Okay, that's encouraging. Carefully, now... "So, will you talk to me?"
Blair stared over at him, and the hesitancy in his eyes slowly gave way to surrender. Then he turned his face toward the ocean again. "I just keep thinking about the man I killed," he admitted after a time. "I can't seem to get away from it."
"Of course you can't get away from it, Chief," Jim said softly. "No one would expect you to. Taking another person's life is a horrible thing, especially if you aren't trained for it. It's ugly and it's hard. But it's also something that you have to get out into the open and deal with or you'll lose it completely. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Blair nodded. "I understand. But that's not what's bothering me the most."
"What, then? You aren't second-guessing yourself, are you?" Jim reached out and touched lightly at Blair's knee. "Chief, you killed that man in self-defense. If you hadn't, he would have killed you, and he probably would have killed me as well."
Again, Blair nodded. "I know that. I know I had no choice." He dropped his gaze to his hands where they rested in his lap. "Believe me, I wish I could have had a choice. I wish I could have had time to talk to him or something."
"It wouldn't have mattered, Sandburg," Jim assured him. "Becker was a highly paid, cold-blooded killer. He wasn't going to listen to anything you had to say."
"I know that, too."
"Then what's the problem?" Jim pressed. "Why aren't you able to sleep?"
When Blair hesitated, Jim reached up and grasped his shoulder. "Chief, please. Talk to me. How can I help if I don't know what's going on?"
Blair's hands twisted nervously in his lap. "It's because I don't care," he breathed out, sentinel-soft.
"You don't care about what?"
Blair's gaze lifted to meet Jim's. The young man's eyes held fear and self-loathing, and when he spoke his words were slow, measured: "I don't care that I killed that man, Jim. Can you believe that?" He huffed out a humorless laugh. "I took a man's life and I don't regret it. I mean, I keep waiting for all this guilt and remorse over what I've done to hit me, but it never comes." He pressed his lips together and shook his head in disgust. "What does that say about me, Jim? What does it say when I can kill a man, walk away and never feel regret?"
Blair ran his hands nervously through his hair, tucking the wind-blown strands behind his ears. "I just don't understand what's happening, man. I mean, shouldn't I feel something?" His voice rose in volume as he became more and more agitated. "And you know what the worst part is? I know I'd do it again, Jim. Tomorrow, if I had to." Reaching up, he swiped a hand across his eyes as a few stray tears escaped. "So not only have I killed someone and managed to feel no remorse whatsoever, but I'd do it again!"
Jim squeezed reassuringly at the shoulder beneath his hand, but remained silent.
"I just don't understand what's wrong with me," Blair whispered fiercely, his voice so low now that it was barely audible above the crashing waves. "I'm a pacifist. The idea of taking another person's life makes me sick. Yet I can't seem to dredge up even the smallest amount of sympathy for the man I shot." He looked up at Jim, his eyes haunted, pleading. "What does that make me, Jim? What kind of man does that make me?"
Jim dropped his hand from Blair's shoulder and shifted around so he was facing him. "I'll tell you what kind of man it makes you," he answered. Blair's eyes held his, the pleading for an answer to his question almost tangible. "It makes you the best kind of partner a cop could ask for. And it also makes you the best kind of friend a man could hope for."
Blair dropped his gaze and shook his head vehemently. "I'm sorry, Jim, but that's not enough."
"It's everything, Chief." Jim reached up and gently grasped Blair's chin in his hand, retaining his hold on the young man's face this time, physically insisting that he give him his full attention. "You told me in the hospital that you shot that man in order to protect me. Was that true?"
Blair opened his mouth in confusion. "Yes," he whispered, "Of course it was true."
"And now that it's done, do you regret your decision?"
Blair stared at him, eyes wide. "No, not at all. I already told you that."
"So in your heart you know you did the only thing you could do?"
Blair nodded once, almost imperceptibly.
"Then that's the key, Sandburg." Jim dropped his hand from Blair's chin. "Chief, you didn't murder that man. You had no choice--you protected yourself and you protected your partner... your friend." Jim lay his hand across Blair's chest, over his heart. "And somewhere in here, you know that. You know that you did what had to be done, and that's why you don't regret it." Slowly, he withdrew his hand but not before touching briefly at the tears on Blair's cheeks. "Chief, it's obvious that this is tearing you up inside. This confusion you feel over your lack of regret... that's what makes you different from Becker. When you begin to lose that, then you should worry."
And as Jim sat watching Blair, his partner's confusion and doubt still clearly drawn by the lines pulling down his mouth, furrowing his brow, he knew what he had to do. Knew it was finally time to tell Blair the whole truth about Dawson Quinn's death.
"Chief," he began slowly. "I want you to know that I understand how you're feeling. That I know what it means to take a life in order to protect someone you care about."
"I know you do, Jim. I know you've had to kill people to protect the men who served with you in the Army--"
"That's not what I'm talking about, Chief," Jim interrupted. "What you don't realize is that I know what it's like to kill a man in order to protect my partner and my friend. To protect you, Blair."
"What?" Blair's eyes were wide, gaping.
Jim took a deep breath. He should have told the kid about this a long time ago... should have never kept it secret. "What happened with Becker? Chief, you made the exact same choice that I had to make the day I killed Dawson Quinn."
Blair stared up at him, unblinking. "What do you mean?"
Jim swallowed and looked away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. There was so much he had never revealed about that day in the North Woods. "Blair," he began softly, "There are some things about Quinn's death... things that I really never wanted you to know. But I think maybe you need to hear those things now."
When Sandburg remained silent, Jim continued. "Before I shot Quinn, he was boasting about what he'd done to you. I kept trying to get him to surrender quietly and let me take him back to town. But he just kept ranting and raving about how he wasn't going back to prison and there was nothing I could do about it." The sentinel leaned forward, needing to be closer to his guide. "He told me that he was coming after you again, Blair, and he said he intended to kill you next time. And he meant it, Chief. I have no doubt in my mind that he meant it." He dropped his gaze. "I just... I couldn't let that happen."
"But he pulled a knife on you. You had no choice."
Jim remained silent. What could he say? And as he looked up into Blair's eyes, he saw his partner's confusion give way to shocked understanding.
"Jim," Blair whispered hesitantly, "You shot Quinn after he pulled that knife, right? Please tell me you shot him after he pulled the knife."
"He had pulled the knife, but I didn't know it at the time," Jim admitted with more than a little reluctance. "I didn't see the knife until after I shot him." He took a deep breath and said, "Blair, I chose to kill Quinn. In my mind, I knew he would come after you again, and I just couldn't let that happen. And I knew there was only one way to stop him. In another few seconds, it would have been self-defense, but when I pulled that trigger, I wasn't pulling it to save myself. I was pulling it because I had no choice--it was either kill Quinn or go back to Cascade and wait for the day that he came back and killed you."
"Jim," Blair breathed out. "You should have told me."
"The only reason I'm telling you now is to make you understand that sometimes, Blair, we do awful things because we have to. Sometimes we regret those things and sometimes we don't. But one thing I could never regret is killing another man in order to protect you."
Blair stared at him unblinking as a single tear tracked slowly down his cheek. The sentinel could hear his guide's heart pounding heavily in his chest, could see the slight tremors that ran through his body, knew he was working hard to maintain control. Another tear slipped from his eyes.
"Jim," he choked out at last.
"It's true, Blair." Reaching out, Jim cupped his cheek, feeling the moisture of his tears there. "I would do it again in an instant if it meant keeping you safe."
Blair covered Jim's hand with his own, squeezing tightly but saying nothing, swallowing hard against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.
"Chief," Jim continued, his voice low, tender, "I regret that I had to shoot another human being. I could never take joy in that. But I've never felt one moment's regret over the decision I made. To be honest, the biggest regret I've had was that I never told you the entire truth. I've always tried to be honest with you, Blair, but I just didn't think it would have helped you to know what really happened that day."
"Until now," Blair managed.
"Until now," Jim agreed. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that when you are someone's partner--someone's family--you do what you have to do to keep that person safe. What I did and what you did is no different in my mind that the man who shoots someone in order to protect his wife and children. That man might suffer some horror over having taken another person's life, but he'd never be expected to feel regret over his decision. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
Slowly, Blair nodded his head. "Yeah, I think I do."
"Good." Jim patted his cheek gently before pulling his hand away. "Are you going to be all right, Chief?"
Blair let out a long, rattling breath. "Yeah, I think I will. It's going to take some time to deal with everything. But I feel better. I'm... I'm glad we talked."
Jim laughed. "Well, so am I. Even if I had to track you down and practically pull the words out of your mouth, I'm glad we talked, too." He smiled widely when Blair chuckled at his teasing.
"There are no quick fixes, Chief," Jim said, his tone become serious again. "You're still going to have some long days and nights ahead of you as your heart and mind try to put what happened into some sort of perspective. But if you'll talk to me"--he lifted his hand and rapped Blair's head with his knuckles, earning himself a small smile--"we'll work through it together. Okay?"
Blair's smile widened a bit. "Okay." Hesitantly, almost shyly, he reached out and touched at Jim's arm. "Thanks, man."
"Not a problem, Chief. In fact, I should thank you. You saved my life back there. And I appreciate it."
Blair shrugged and gave Jim a lopsided grin. "You're welcome. After all, that's what partners do, right?"
"That's exactly what they do, Chief."
"Um, Jim? Just one more thing..."
"What would that be?"
"Don't ever make me have to do that again, okay?"
Jim's laughter rang out, then faded into the sound of the rushing surf. "I promise you that I'll do my very best. Deal?"
Blair's brilliant smile flashed in the moonlight, warming Jim's heart. His friend was going to be all right. "Deal," the young man agreed softly.
Epilogue
Jim turned left off University Avenue and pulled his truck into the parking lot that abutted Hargrove Hall. Glancing about him as he drove toward the front of the old granite building, he couldn't help but smile. The campus was so different during the summer--it had a different look, a different feel. An occasional car was parked here and there, but for the most part the large lot was empty. Ahead, Jim spied a few people walking across the lawn or standing in small groups chatting, but the University was nowhere as crowded as it usually was. In only two short weeks the campus would take on an altogether different appearance and atmosphere --fall classes would be in session and Rainier would be overrun with students, faculty and other University personnel.
Pulling the truck into a parking spot, Jim pushed the gearshift into park and turned off the engine. Pocketing his keys, he exited the cab and closed the door behind him. A light wind toyed at his hair and caressed his skin; the pleasant feeling captured his attention and he stood still for a moment, enjoying the day. It was pleasantly warm and the soft ocean breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees and tickled the thick grass. Overhead, a few small clouds nudged themselves across the sky--lazy, cottony wisps of nothingness that seemed to also be taking the time to enjoy the perfect summer day.
Jim brought his attention back to the campus before him and looked around for his partner. It struck him as odd that Blair was nowhere to be seen. He knew Blair was waiting for him--they'd talked on the phone less than fifteen minutes ago, but it was hard for Jim to believe that Blair would be in his office on such a beautiful afternoon. He had fully expected to find Sandburg waiting for him near the parking lot.
Extending his hearing, Jim scanned the park-like area located in the middle of the campus. His hearing picked up a gentle hum of voices and an occasional crescendo of laughter, but none of the muted tones belonged to Blair. Across campus, a metal ring jangled gaily against a flagpole, the rasp of a nylon flag dancing in the wind providing a sort of background music to the bright clang, clang clang. Jim pushed the pleasant sounds away without effort and narrowed his focus. Almost immediately the familiar sound of Blair's heart reached his ears. The sentinel grinned. Blair's heartbeat was calm and steady; whatever the young man was doing, he was totally relaxed.
Jim started across the luxurious carpet of grass, using the familiar heartbeat to guide him to his friend. As he walked, he considered how the sound of that heartbeat never failed to provide him with an emotional beacon, a feeling of safe harbor. His smiled widened at the thought.
Jim felt good, content. It was a feeling he'd had only the briefest of encounters with in his lifetime. Until Blair had come along, that is. But even as content as the detective had been since
Blair entered his life, he knew that something more had changed within him when Blair received his degree. Something monumental. He felt like a man who had made good on a long overdue promise, yet it was more than that. It had something--everything, actually--to do with Blair being so happy, so satisfied. Jim couldn't deny what he knew to be the truth--that his own happiness was bound up in the happiness of his friend, that as long as Blair was safe, happy, content, then Jim Ellison would be as well.
Jim stopped as Blair came into view. He shook his head and folded his arms across his chest, smiling fondly at the sight before him. His friend lay on his back in the soft green grass, his body stretched out in the sun. Blair's ever-present backpack was positioned to serve as a makeshift pillow for his head, and the mid-afternoon sun touched at his hair where it spilled out across the pack, making the strands appear lighter than usual. Jim's gaze traveled down across Blair's Greenpeace tee shirt--the one Naomi had sent him from Australia's Great Barrier Reef last year--and his worn khaki shorts. Sandburg's Birkenstock sandals lay abandoned in the grass near his bare feet. Again, Jim shook his head--it was a rare thing indeed to see his energetic friend and guide so motionless and relaxed.
Stepping up to his partner, Jim looked down at the quiet man.
"Hey, Jim," Blair groused without opening his eyes, "Step back, man. You are majorly blocking my rays here."
Jim chuckled at his friend's assumed peevishness. "Hey, I'm just trying to help you out, Sandburg. Too much sun's not good for you."
Blair didn't reply. Instead, he opened one eye and glared up at Jim, his lips pursed in mock annoyance. Laughing, Jim held his hands up. "Okay, okay, I'm moving," he said as he lowered himself to the lawn and stretched his legs out on the soft grass.
Yawning mightily, Blair sat up and crossed his legs, then leaned forward to rest his forearms against his knees. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, letting the sun catch him full in the face. Tranquillity graced his features and the hint of a pleased smile played at his lips.
