Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount, and The SciFi Channel.
Carole
Jim looked up again and surveyed the road in both directions. The car containing Rafe and Brown, parked at the opposite end of the road, was the only car in sight. "No sign of them yet."
"It's almost four o'clock. Maybe the tip was wrong."
"I don't think so, Chief. That tip came from a pretty reliable source."
"I'm just glad that we got to have our Thanksgiving dinner before filling in on this stake-out."
"You and me both, partner."
"Hey, Jim! Look!" Blair grinned, then pointed at the large snowflakes beginning to fall to the ground around the truck. "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow," he sang.
"Isn't it a little early for that, Sandburg?"
Blair rolled his eyes. "I can't help it! Look at that, man! If that doesn't put you in the holiday spirit..."
"I thought you hated snow."
"I do, when I'm out in it. But in here I'm nice and warm. I'm as snug as a bug in a rug." He motioned with mitten clad hands toward his down-filled jacket and the Fargo hat on his head. "And this is the first real snowfall of the year, and it's Thanksgiving and my stomach is full and I'm feeling good!" He pulled the furry hat down lower, partially covering his eyes, and peered at Jim with a wide smile.
Jim chuckled. "Yeah, I could tell, Junior."
"Over the river and through the woods..."
"Another Christmas song?" Jim asked in fond amusement.
Blair stopped singing and turned to look at Jim. "For your information," he began in a mock professorial tone, "It's also a Thanksgiving song. I used to sing it when I was little. I remember one Thanksgiving when I was, I don't know, three or four, I guess, since I was still in diapers. Naomi and I were staying at a friend's farm. He had every animal you can think of, pigs, horses, cows, even sheep. One morning I was following this baby duck down toward the duck pond..."
Jim smothered a grin as he pictured a Pamper-clad miniature version of his partner chasing after a duckling.
"What?"
"Nothing, Chief."
"What!?"
Jim chucked as he gave in. "I was just picturing you in Pampers."
Blair shook his head. "No plastic for my mom. You know, 'protect the environment' and all that. She used cloth diapers."
Jim's smile grew wider.
"Cool it, Mr. 'I've got to be in control at all times.' I bet you were no picnic when it came to potty training," Blair retorted. "Anyway, I got too close to the water and fell in. Guess I figured, what the duck could do, I could do, too. Naomi came running and pulled me out. I wouldn't go near that pond for the rest of our visit! That night my mom made this really big Thanksgiving dinner. You know, turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, applesauce... the whole works. She even made a pumpkin pie for dessert."
"Sounds nice."
"Yeah, it was. I don't really remember celebrating Thanksgiving very much after that, what with traveling around so much. I think that this year is the first time in years that I've had a real Thanksgiving dinner."
"Carolyn and I did the big Thanksgiving dinner thing a couple times. But it wasn't..." Jim shrugged as his voice trailed off.
"What about when you were little?" Blair asked quickly, seeing the touch of sadness in his friend's eyes.
"When my mom was there," Jim said, as his eyes closed in reflection, "we always had a big family dinner, with all the traditional stuff. Dad would carve the turkey, Steven and I would always fight over the wishbone, and my mom, well, she'd just sit back and watch all of us with this big smile on her face." Jim's smile faded. "But things changed after my mom was gone. Holidays were always solemn and, I don't know, somber events. Dad presiding at the head of the table, Steven and I quietly eating. I remember wondering if I'd ever have a real Thanksgiving dinner again."
Blair nodded in understanding. "The kind with lots of laughing and lots of love. A family Thanksgiving."
"Yeah."
There was silence in the truck for a long moment, then Jim reached over to gently squeeze Blair's shoulder. "I had one this year."
Blair looked confused. "Had one what?"
"A family Thanksgiving."
"But it was just the two of...." Blair blinked, then a pleased smile spread over his face. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh," Jim teased, smiling warmly and yanking the furry hat down over Blair's eyes.
Blair's beaming smile was all that could be seen of his expressive face. "Thanks, Jim."
"You're welcome, buddy."
Jim's phone rang.
"Ellison. Hey, Simon. Nope, no sign of him. Yeah, he's fine. Okay." Jim clicked the phone off and turned to his partner. "Simon said our relief is on the way. He also said that you better be in one piece when they get here."
Blair laughed, pushing his hat out of his eyes. "I knew we could do it."
"Simon wasn't so sure."
"That's because I ended up in the emergency room after our last three stake-outs. But we did it. In fact, I made it through the whole day without being threatened, beat up, shot at, or kidnapped. No concussions. No broken bones." Blair removed one mitten and held up his bandaged finger. "The closest call I've had today was when I tried to slice off my finger with the carving knife."
"How's your finger?" Jim asked quickly .
"It's fine. It's just a little cut, remember. You cleaned it, you disinfected it, you bandaged it. I think I'll live."
Jim glanced down the road behind them as he heard the sound of a car.
"Is our replacement coming?"
"Time to go home, Chief."
"Good. My stomach is ready for that last piece of pumpkin pie."
"Your stomach? What about my stomach?"
"You already had at least three pieces, man."
"So did you."
Jim reached to turn the ignition key and then froze, eyes on the rearview mirror.
"Jim?"
"I don't think we're leaving just yet."
Blair twisted around in his seat to peer out the back window. "Is that him?"
"Looks like it. There's another car coming from the other way. Get down, then call it in."
The black car moved past them as Blair made the call from his scrunched down position. Jim raised himself up just enough to focus in on the transaction being made. He felt his guide's hand come to rest on his shoulder, grounding him.
"That's it, Chief. Let's go get him." Jim started the truck, and pulled out on to the road, heading for the black car still parked next to the second one.
As Jim approached, the driver of the second car swung out around him on the grass and headed down the road at full speed. Brown and Rafe were quickly in pursuit.
"Hang on!" Jim yelled, as he saw the black car accelerate down the road.
"Whoa!" Blair's hands were braced against the front dash as they slid around the first two curves at high speed. On the third curve, Jim flung his arm across Blair's chest as two of the truck's tires left the ground.
"You okay, Chief?" Jim called without taking his eyes off the road.
"I'm fine. But it's a good thing there's no traffic on this road. He must be going at least eighty!" Blair glanced at the speedometer. "Oh, man! Make that eighty-five."
"Not for long," Jim said, hearing the sound of approaching sirens. "Here comes our back-up."
Blair sighed with relief as Jim took his foot off the gas and let the truck slow to a safer speed. Both men watched as two police cars pulled out into the next intersection and cut off the drug dealer's escape. The driver was quickly cuffed and placed into a police car. With a wave of thanks to the uniformed officers, Jim made a quick u-turn and headed back down the road.
"Now we can go home," Jim said in satisfaction.
Blair nodded in agreement. "Sounds good. Hey, Jim, first one up the stairs gets that last piece of pie."
Jim chuckled. "That's going to be me, Junior."
"Is not," Blair retorted with a grin.
"Is too."
"Is not. What are you doing with my hat? Hey! Don't mess with the hair!"
~end~
November 1999