by Beth Manz
"What's going on?"
Stephen looked up from what he was doing. "We figured we were leaving."
"We're not," Jim said, marching into the camp. "Dad left. We're not."
"We can't just let him leave like this." Blair's gaze shifted from Jim to Stephen and back again. "Come on! He's your dad!"
"He'll be fine," Jim said matter-of-factly. "He's staying in town tonight and tomorrow he's going to pick us up as scheduled. Until then, we're going to relax and fish and have a good time... just like we planned."
"Jim's right," Stephen said after a time. "I think we should stay."
"Then it's settled." Jim could see the uncertainty that lingered in Blair's eyes, but the younger man didn't protest any more. Instead, he began setting the gear out again. "Let's get a fire going," Jim suggested. "I'm starving."
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/
Jim lay on his back, listening to Blair's soft, even breathing, his slowed heart rate coming from the next tent over. Clearly, his guide was already asleep. He smiled as he thought about the dinner the three of them had shared around the campfire.
Stephen had cooked the fish they'd caught earlier while Blair told them about a trip he'd once taken to Mexico with his mother when he was only nine. It was a story Jim had never heard before involving three horses, a chicken and a moving van. He rolled his eyes even now, thinking about it.
When it was finally time to turn in, Blair had insisted Jim and Stephen share a tent. It had seemed a bit silly to Jim at the time, but he had to admit that part of him was grateful to his friend for making the gesture.
Jim glanced at Stephen as he heard soft chuckling coming from beside him. "What?"
"Sorry, Jim," his brother whispered, immediately quieting down. But seconds later, he was chuckling again.
"What's so funny?" Jim asked, smiling himself.
"It's nothing really, it's just... I'm lying here thinking that I'm almost forty years old and I'm positively thrilled that I'm finally sharing a tent with my big brother." He laughed again. "How ridiculous does that make me?"
Jim reached out and put a hand on Stephen's shoulder, squeezing gently. "It's not ridiculous at all. It's something that's long overdue."
"I'm just sorry I had to displace Blair to do it."
"Don't worry," Jim said softly. "He's already asleep."
Stephen stared at him, and even in the dim light Jim could see the sudden furrow in his brow. "How do you know?"
"Because he was dead tired." He patted his brother's arm. "He's fine, Stephen. He wanted it this way."
Both men fell silent for a moment. The wind that had picked up after dinner played now over the tent fabric, rippling and tugging. Jim listened to it move gently over the tent, to his brother's soft breathing beside him, to Blair's calm heartbeat beyond that... and felt content. His father's anger and disapproval still clung to him, but he was determined to not let it overshadow the good parts of this trip.
He closed his eyes and settled down for the night, exhaling a long, satisfied breath.
"Jim?" Stephen whispered into the darkness.
"Hmmm?"
"Why do you think dad left so abruptly?"
Jim let out a weary sigh, opening his eyes again. He really didn't want to talk about their father, but he could tell from his brother's voice that what had happened was bothering him. And he didn't like the idea of Stephen being up half the night worrying.
"I don't know," he began softly. "I think when Blair came looking for us, it made dad angry."
"But you guys were late," Stephen reasoned, his voice tinged with impatience. "We were worried something had happened to you. I don't understand how Blair going to find you could make him so angry."
Frustration cut through Jim. He couldn't tell Stephen all that had happened, yet he needed to give him some kind of answer, something that would satisfy him. In the end, he told his brother what he believed was the truth. "Stephen, I don't think the 'why' behind what Blair does matters to dad anymore. He resents Sandburg's involvement with our family. Period."
"He should be grateful," Stephen muttered.
"What's that?"
"To Blair. Dad should be grateful to Blair." Stephen shifted until he was on his side, facing Jim. "You've changed since you met him, Jim. You're more open, at ease. I don't know what it is exactly, but even when we were kids I felt like you were looking for something, looking for yourself." He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Jim, almost as if he were studying him. "I think... I think somehow Blair helped you find what you were looking for. It's like you're comfortable in your own skin now. Comfortable with who you are."
Jim stared at his brother, surprised at his insight. Because Stephen was right. When Blair explained his sentinel abilities to him and began actually working to help him control them, Jim had slowly achieved a sense of peace he'd never thought imaginable. He'd always known that he was different, he just didn't know why... until Blair.
"It's like he centers you," Stephen continued softly. "Blair has this way about him... I can't really explain it, but it's like this calmness... and it's almost as if he's given some of that to you."
Jim smiled as he thought about his brother's words. And about his partner. Sending out his hearing, he listened again to Blair's soft breathing. A sense of gratitude stole over him as he did so--gratitude for his brother, who despite all the problems they'd had growing up, still wanted to get to know him; for his life in Cascade that was better than he could have ever imagined; and for Blair, a young man who had come into his life without warning and ended up saving his sanity and giving him a sense of peace and family he'd never known before.
Part Five
"Sandburg, put down that book and get in this water and fish with us."
Blair looked up from the book in his lap and glared at Jim. The sentinel stood a few feet from shore, his fishing line cast out before him. Stephen was beside him, Blair's lucky fishing hat perched on his head. Blair shifted his gaze to him.
"Stephen, your brother doesn't seem to understand that some people like to read for pleasure, that reading can be just as enjoyable as fishing." He looked at Jim again. "I never get this opportunity, so just leave me alone."
"What are you reading?" Stephen asked as Jim shook his head and turned his attention back to his fishing line.
Blair held up the book. "It's called, The Proper Study of Mankind: An Anthology of Essays."
Stephen's eyes widened. "That's what you read for pleasure?"
Jim laughed. "You see, Chief, I'm not the only one who thinks your reading choices leave something to be desired."
"Maybe if you tried reading my books instead of making fun of them, you'd realize how interesting they are," Blair countered.
"Sandburg, I'll read your books when I have insomnia and need a cure," Jim shot back.
"I'm telling you, Jim, you really are funny, man. Seriously, you should think about doing some stand up. I think--"
"I got another one!" Stephen called out suddenly as his line jerked then pulled taut.
Jim grabbed up the net and waded to him. "I can't believe it. That's your third one in the last hour!"
"It's the hat, man," Blair offered enthusiastically as he watched the two men reel in the large trout. "I always out-fish your brother when I wear that hat."
Stephen beamed at him and reached up to reposition the hat on his head. "I think you may be right."
"I know I'm right... and so does Jim." He gave his partner a smug grin. "I'm telling you, Stephen, I have to hide that hat from Jim when we're home. He secretly covets it."
Jim snorted. "Sandburg, I don't covet anything of yours, secretly or otherwise."
"You just keep telling yourself that," Blair said smugly.
The three men spent another hour at the lake before heading back to their camp. They ate a leisurely lunch, Blair preparing the fish this time. As they finally got ready to leave, packing up their tents and fishing gear, Blair was glad they had decided to
stay. He'd enjoyed this morning... and had slept well the night before, knowing that Jim and Stephen were finally getting some time together.
"You ready to go, Chief?" Jim asked, his hand coming to rest comfortably at the center of Blair's back.
He looked up at his partner and nodded. "Jim?" he said before the sentinel could move away. "Despite everything that happened, I'm glad I came. I had a good time."
Jim's hand slid to the back of his neck and squeezed gently. "So did I."
The three men hiked out of the woods, moving at a casual pace. They had left themselves plenty of time to make it to the parking lot where they would be picked up. Relief spread through Blair at the sight of William Ellison waiting for them at the arranged area. Down deep, he had worried that the man would not come back for them. That they'd be left to find a way home on their own.
It wasn't until they began loading the Cherokee that Blair began to regret his presence on this trip again. If William Ellison had been cold to him before, he was downright hostile now. They drove back to the city in uncomfortable silence, Blair simply counting off the miles until they arrived home. Stephen was dropped off at his place first, and as he slid out of the truck, his gaze locked with Blair's.
"You're sure I can't buy that hat from you?"
Blair smiled, shaking his head. "Not for sale, man. My mom gave me that hat."
Reaching inside, he slapped him on the arm. "Can't blame a guy for trying." He slammed the door shut and moved to Jim's window. "I had a good time," he told his brother. "Thanks."
Jim smiled at him. "So did I."
Blair watched the exchange from the back seat, pleased by the obvious warmth the two brothers felt for each other, a warmth that had not existed just a few short months ago. But as he shifted his attention forward, he realized William was watching him in the rearview mirror, his eyes hard and icy. Blair dropped his gaze to his lap... and wished they were home.
/
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William steered the Cherokee to the curb outside the loft and cut the engine. "Well, it was a great weekend, wasn't it?" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he turned to look at Jim.
"It could have been, Dad," Jim said softly. "If you had let it."
"I know... everything's my fault. It's always my fault." His angry gaze shifted to Blair. "How is it that you came through all this smelling like a rose and I turned into a heel?"
"I'm going to get our stuff," Blair said, pushing open his door. He moved to the rear of the truck, opened the hatch and took out as much gear as he could carry.
"That was rude," William muttered as Blair entered the building.
"He was rude? Come on! You were baiting him. What did you expect?"
"From him... not much."
Jim rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay, Dad, you know what? That's it. I'm not doing this anymore. I want you to come upstairs with me so we can talk... all three of us."
"Jimmy, I don't see the point."
"You don't see the point?" Jim repeated, his voice terse. "You like this tension between us? Because until this thing with Sandburg is resolved, it's not going to go away."
"Fine. We'll talk." William released his seat belt and pushed his door open. "But I'm warning you right now, you might not want to hear what I have to say."
Jim followed his father inside and the two men rode up the elevator in silence. As they
stepped into the loft, Jim's gaze fell on the gear Blair had left just inside the door. But Blair himself was no where in sight. Jim realized a moment later that he could hear his partner moving around in his back bedroom, putting his things away.
"Jim?" Sandburg called out from inside the small room. "I really think your dad hates me, man. I was worried he was going to back over me with the car when I-" His statement cut off mid-sentence as he stepped from his room and saw the two men standing at the doorway. "Mr. Ellison, I... I'm sorry" he stammered. "I didn't know you were here."
"Obviously," William grated out.
"Really, I'm sorry." He moved toward them, his face a mask of embarrassment. "I shouldn't have said that. I-"
"It's okay, Chief," Jim said, his voice overriding Blair's. "You didn't do anything wrong." Crossing to his partner, he laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "My dad is here because I want the three of us to talk. Specifically, I want my dad to talk." He looked at William again. "I want to know where all this hostility is coming from. And don't give me that crap about him not being a cop. You never worried about me doing the job before. I find it hard to believe you do now."
William shook his head. "How can you say that, Jimmy? You're my son. I worry about you every day." He flicked a cold gaze to Blair. "Even more since you met him."
Jim paced back to his father. "See, Dad? This is what I don't understand. Why do you worry more since I met Blair?"
"Because he encourages your problem," William spat out, his steely gaze locked with Jim's.
"My problem?"
Tentatively, William reached out and laid a hand on Jim's arm. "Jimmy," he began softly, his eyes taking on a pained look. "When you were a little boy, you sometimes heard things or saw things that you shouldn't have been able to."
Jim tensed as his father's words settled over him. He had always suspected that his father knew more about his heightened senses than he let on, but this was the first time he'd openly admitted it. "Dad-"
"Let me finish," William said, his hand tightening on the arm he still held. "I thought if I just ignored this problem, then in time whatever was wrong with you would just go away. And I think for a long time it did. Until you met him." He glanced briefly at Blair, any warmth that had been in his eyes slipping away as he looked at the anthropologist. "He encourages you. I didn't realize it at first, but the more time we spent together, the more I began to realize that your problem was back. And that Blair is the reason."
"Dad, I don't have a problem," Jim said, his voice cool, curt. "I have heightened senses. It's nothing Blair did to me. I was just born with them. All Blair has done is teach me how to control them."
William shook his head. "He encourages you. If he had just left you alone, you'd be normal."
"He is normal, Mr. Ellison," Blair said from behind Jim, his voice low, firm.
William shifted his attention to Blair. "You!" He stalked to him, his eyes dark with anger. "You tell my son these lies to keep control over him. I saw how you manipulated him in that cave."
"No, you're wrong." Blair held his ground, staring up at William unflinchingly. "I was helping him."
"You were controlling him!" William shouted, the harshness in his tone making the younger man draw back slightly.
"Mr. Ellison," he began again, holding out his hands in a placating manner. "All I was doing--"
"Don't explain it to him, Chief." Jim moved over beside Blair and dropped a hand on his shoulder. "You don't owe him any kind of explanation."
William's eyes narrowed as he looked at Jim. "Don't you see what he's done? He convinced you that you have these heightened senses, then he convinced you that you can't handle them without him. Don't you see the control he has over you? He's manipulating you, Jimmy. He has been for years! But not anymore." His gaze locked on Blair again, rage burning behind his eyes. "Your free ride is over because someone has finally figured you out." He took a step toward him, towering over him. "Someone finally sees you for what you really are!"
"Dad, stop!" Jim stepped in front of Blair, blocking him from his father. "You don't know what you're talking about and you're making a fool of yourself."
"You're the fool, Jim. His fool!"
Jaw clenched tight, Jim turned toward Blair. "Chief, I need to have some time alone with my father."
Blair looked up at Jim, his eyes wide, unblinking. "Alone? Why?"
"Because I need to explain some things to him." Taking Blair by the arm, he escorted him to the door. He took out his wallet and pressed a five-dollar bill into Blair's palm. "Buy yourself a cup of coffee
at the diner. Just give us an hour. Okay?"
"What are you going to tell him?" Blair asked, and Jim could hear the worry beneath the words, knew his guide already suspected the answer.
"I'm going to tell him the truth, Sandburg. All of it."
Blair paled slightly. "Oh man, Jim. Are you sure?" He glanced at William before returning his attention to his partner. "I don't even think he'll believe you. I mean, you tell him you're a sentinel and-"
"Blair," Jim said, his voice low but firm. "I'll make him believe me."
/
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Blair hunched his shoulders against the cold as the walked back toward the loft. He'd spent the last hour in the coffee shop around the corner, sipping hot coffee, chatting with the waitress, and trying not to think about what Jim and his father had been discussing... and how William would react.
Now, as he turned the corner, he could see Jim's truck parked in front of the loft. William's rented Jeep was gone. He raised an eyebrow, unsure if it was a sign good or bad that Jim's dad had left already.
He bypassed the elevator and used the stairs instead, taking them two at a time. As he pushed through the front door of the loft and turned to deposit his keys in the basket by the door, he called out, "So, Jim--how'd it go?" But as he started toward the living area, it was William, not Jim, who rose from the couch to face him. He stopped abruptly. "Mr. Ellison, I thought-""
"You thought I'd left," William finished the sentence. "That's what I wanted you to think." He stepped around the couch and approached him. "Jim went out to pick up some dinner. I asked him to take the Jeep. I thought if you saw my Jeep rather than Jim's truck, you'd stay away." He stopped in front of Blair. "Was I right?"
"Yes," Blair admitted honestly.
"Well, I can't blame you there." William took a long breath and let it out slowly. "Blair, I don't really know what to say. Jim explained some things to me... about... about what he is." He rubbed at his eyes. "It's going to take me a while to absorb all he said, but one thing is clear--you've helped my son when no one else could have. And now, when I think about some of the things I said to you--"
