Disclaimer: The Sentinel and all related characters are the property of UPN, Paramount and Pet Fly Productions. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made. This is just for fun and to thank all the other TS fanfic writers for entertaining when one hour a week is just not enough....I hold Danny Bilson and Paul Demeo in highest regard for the creation of such an entertaining program and such marvelous characters.
(This one is for LRH Balzer, the soul catcher. She has trapped the essence of this show in fine filaments of gold, and spun a web sturdy and strong. It's for Kris Williams; hers were the first stories I enjoyed. She's a tale spinner nonpareil, an excellent read, and a real character builder. And for Mercury, who took me on "The Plunge" and got me addicted to falling right into her stories. Finally, thank God for Birkies and their lovely, lively ways. Remember, people, it's suppose to be FUN!)
A personal dedication to my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother: Marie, Agnes, and Mary.
Agnes Mage
We take wrongs to heart. We hold them snuggled to our breast like
they were souvenirs of times well spent. Instead of dealing with these
misshaped forms, we dust and polish and put them on display. What is it
about these crudely dealt blows of daily life that makes us harbor and
treasure them. In time we must surely realize how they wear and tire the
most dedicated keeper.
Part One: Barometric Pressure Rising
The loft reverberated with the slamming of pots and pans and doors. The air was so thick it could be cut with a knife, but only by one long heated on the coals. It was still cold in Cascade, but there was a turbulence turning and churning at 852 Prospect that had nothing to do with the barometric pressure.
Blair Sandburg, Guide, Shaman, almost PhD, partner, friend, roommate, and pissed off person was showing his temper. He had talked up a blue streak last night, but it did him very little good. One thick-skulled, arrogant, know-it-all, self-righteous, hard-ass, military, macho-type, Major Crimes Detective named James Ellison, had probably tuned him out completely by the end of Blair's tirade. When Jim Ellison knew something was right...well at least when he felt it was right...nothing could alter the course of that particular raging river. Its course was firmly set and God help anything that got in its way. It would be washed along with the current, or buried in the mud trying to firmly stand its ground. Blair resented being washed along. He rarely went with the social flow, usually deliberately went against it, but when he dug in his heels Jim was not going to stand by and let him be buried in the mud. No, not Jim Ellison, he wanted to pull Blair out, clean him off, and put him right back in the flow of things.
Well, no thank you, big guy, I want no part of this particular cleansing. Even though I'm responsible for the dirty mess. Blair thought to himself as he continued to noisely fix breakfast for the opposing forces. Jim had come downstairs chipper and smiling, pretending nothing had happened. He had set that one track mind of his and Blair was just a small stone on the tracks that needed to be removed. In truth, there wasn't a hell of a lot Blair could do to derail Jim Ellison, cop.
It had all started two months ago, when Blair came down with the flu, well, actually it had started sixteen years ago, but Roberta Rowland was paying for a favor she did for Blair last year. Blair Sandburg, sixteen-year-old college student had become depressed and had a fellow chem student fix him an illegal combination of drugs to use as a tranquilizer to help him sleep. Blair's whole intent had been to put himself into a little deeper slumber than he had led his friend to believe, but Blair had ended up aborting the attempt when he had witnessed a display of fireflies in the blackness of the forest night. Blair had promised himself to keep the drug handy, just in case. It was a sort of reminder of how Blair had found a reason to stay and a wand to ward off any future attempts. It was a symbol of how close he had come to making one irrevocably foolish mistake.
So he had tucked the small bottle of drugs and the suicide note in his little cigar box; all his childhood mementoes were tucked safely away in that delapidated old box. In a fevered fit, Blair had tossed his room, scattering several drawers of clothing and the contents of his treasure box around his room. Jim had come in and put Blair in a tub of water to bring down his fever. However, when Ellison cleaned the room, putting everything back into some semblance of order, he had found the illegal substances.
Jim Ellison was a "Let's cut the crap, Chief," kind of guy. He liked all the cards on the table, everything neatly in its place, and left nothing hiding beneath the dust of obfuscations and philosophical meanderings. So when Blair had tried to convince Jim it was just a symbol, a reminder, a life preserver helping Sandburg sometimes cope with the chaos and despair of life, Jim just wouldn't buy it. Jim Ellison, Sentinel, didn't play games or take chances where his Guide/Shaman was concerned. He had backed Blair into a corner, tricked him into thinking he was under arrest and gotten Bobbi's name. He had promised only to talk to her...put the fear of God in her...as Ellison phrased it, but Bobbi was only doing Blair a favor and she didn't deserve to be confronted by the burning blue lasers that were going to be pinning her to the wall this afternoon.
Blair had put off this particular confrontation as long as he could. It was several weeks after Blair had been rescued by Jim from David Jason's root cellar and recovered from pneumonia, that Detective Ellison had kicked back into full form. He had wanted Blair to set up a meeting in Blair's office at Rainier for the three of them...oh yeah, Blair was going to be in front of that particular firing squad again, too. Jim felt he owed it to Bobbi to be standing right alongside her when she felt the heat. Blair, however, had managed to choreograph the dance of evasion for two months. First, Bobbi was doing off-campus work, then she was home visiting her parents, then she was off on some research program to clean up the waters of Pugent Sound, and Blair kept the dance program filled. Jim had bided his time letting Blair think he was buying into it all, but last night Jim had come out and said he had talked to the head of the Chemistry Department and Bobbi Rowland was on campus today. He had told the Department head that he needed Bobbi's help on a case he was working on and had heard from her friend, Blair Sandburg, that she might be able to help them. The Department Head had said he would see that Bobbi Rowland was in Blair's office at 3 today.
When Blair had heard this particular news last night from Jim, he had become desperate, infuriated, churlish, and childish. He raged, cajoled, pleaded, bargained, and finally came pretty close to stamping his feet in a petulant display of temper. Blair Sandburg, Guide, regretted ever having taught Jim Ellison, Sentinel, how to turn down certain radio dials. He was certain Jim was using these techniques on him last night. The Sentinel merely sat in front of the television, the sound turned almost completely down, and listened patiently and stoically to Blair's tirade. Sometimes Jim Ellison's face could become a stone mask of vacant determination. Nothing Blair could say or do could change the lines or emotions on his imperturbable countenance.
Needless-to-say, such impassiveness merely added fuel to the raging fire inside of Sandburg. Jim put being a cop before being a friend, at least that's the way stubborn Sandburg logic was interpretting the whole situation. Blair Sandburg had an innate need to protect and nurture. He was always reaching out to others trying to help them with their problems. He had a youthful openness about him that made people want to confide in him. Blair not only listened, he heard and understood. On top of these attributes the kid had projected a persona that was never judgmental, he took people at face value and valued everyone equally. Yet, the kid never seemed to be able to understand his own inner conversations.
Blair was just putting the eggs on the table and filling the mugs with coffee when Jim Ellison came down the stairs completely dressed. Blair couldn't help but note the tired look in his partner's eyes and for one brief moment he felt guilty. Maybe he wasn't being completely fair here with Jim. If Jim was really in full cop mode, both Blair and Bobbi would be talking to lawyers right now. He was just about to consider an apology when Jim pinned him with a strict glare.
"Chief, don't forget our little appointment this afternoon...your office 3 p.m. sharp," Jim said pointing at Blair with his fork, "Don't make me come look for either one of you."
"Jim, man, you are being so totally unreasonable here. I just can't believe you," Blair said as he lost his own appetite and slammed his fork down. He had the satisfaction of seeing Jim wince.
"I'm unreasonable, Sandburg?" Jim said trying to keep the calm, cool head he promised himself when dealing with Blair on this issue, "Why don't you really sit down and take the time to think about what you really did. Maybe if that razor sharp mind of yours can finally tune in to the real issues here, it may be able to see you're getting off real easy."
"Oh, I'm sorry Detective Ellison, I forgot, I should be grateful. Having a cop for a best friend and roommate gives me more advantages than the common stiff, I get to have my room searched, my conversations listened into, my personal activities monitored, and my friends harrassed, simply because I know the great Detective James Ellison. Well, thank you so much...but NO THANK YOU!" Blair shouted sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest, setting his mind and body in the position of obstinancy and opposition.
Jim Ellison had one hell of a headache this morning. He had been subjected to Blair Sandburg's monologue for over two hours last night. True, he had been able to turn the dial and keep Blair's whining and shouting to a minimum, but every so often a chord in his conscience was plucked and his own doubts and misgivings caused enough dissonance in his soul. He cared for Blair Sandburg. There was just no getting around the fact that the long-haired anthropologist had taken root inside of Jim Ellison. He had sprouted roots that took hold in Ellison's heart, soul, and mind.
The last thing Jim wanted to do was hurt the kid or make him lose favor with his friends. But this issue was just too legally binding to be ignored. If Bobbi was mixing illegal recipes for Blair, then she was surely mixing up the whims and fancies of other students. Jim would not be able to live with himself if another student overdosed or committed suicide. It still angered Jim to think that Blair had come so close. It added one more facet to the many sides of Blair Sandburg, but this was one facet that reflected the dark side and Jim did not want to see the light go out completely in this region.
Sandburg was now in full protective mode, and the object of his vigilance was Bobbi. Jim had often been the recipient of Sandburg's safekeeping and he knew to what extent Blair would go to help a friend. He honored and respected this of his roommate, but Blair was just going to have to trust him on this. Jim was honor bound as an officer of the law to deal with Bobbi and Blair in a way that at least guaranteed their safety and their adherence to the law. If it meant Sandburg was pissed at him for a few days, then so be it. Sandburg was an intelligent man, he would eventually realize that Jim had taken the only course of action he could within the limits of conscience and still keep Bobbi and Blair out of the legal system.
"Sandburg, we've been over this a million times. I have no choice. For once just do as I tell you." Jim said as he finally got up to put his dishes in the sink. He headed for the coat rack and started to put his jacket on. He looked at Blair who was glaring at him over his coffee cup. "Chief, you're just going to have to trust me on this," and with that he walked out of the loft and headed for the station.
"Damn you, Jim," Blair said, and he knew Jim could hear him as he left the building.
Blair had classes all morning. He picked up a salad at the student cafeteria and had taken it back to his desk. The thing now sat there wilted and untouched. It was 2:30. The hour was close at hand. How could I have been so stupid to keep those drugs in the loft. Did I really think that a thick plastic bag could keep out a Sentinel's sense of smell? Or did I really want Jim to find them?...Oh, man I don't want to go there again. Jim says I sometimes do things deliberately to get caught...my Sandburg cry for help, as he calls it.
Just then Blair's ruminations were halted by the knocking on his door. "Come in," he said wondering who it was since he hadn't any student appointments this afternoon and it was still too early for Bobbi.
In walked Bobbi Rowland, dark hair, dark eyes, porcelain skin, and athletic build, cool reflections of confidence and strong will. Bobbi of the soft heart and compassionate nature who was being sacrificed on the Ellison altar of legal retribution. Jim just did not know what he was doing.
"Bobbi, hi...how are you?" Blair asked as he rose and offered her a seat.
"Blair, I've been rather worried about this meeting Professor Klester said he scheduled with a Detective Jim Ellison. Why would you suggest me as a possible consultant for the police department?" Bobbi asked suspiciously. She was just too sharp not to have her suspicions aroused.
"Oh, Bobbi, I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen, you've got to believe me." Blair said passionately. He immediately saw the look of an epiphany light its way across Bobbi's face.
"Oh, my God, Blair. It's not about the drugs, is it...please tell me it's not about the drugs," she said in an impassioned plea for the nightmare to end.
"I'm afraid that's exactly what it's about, Ms. Rowland," Jim Ellison's authoritarian, totally cop voice said, and Bobbi Rowland bent forward and put her face in her hands and started to cry.
The next hour was hell on earth for Blair Sandburg and Bobbi Rowland. For Bobbi it was an hour of abject mortification and uncertainty. This cop was one mean, hard-assed, son of a bitch. He subjected Bobbi to all legal ramifications for her actions. He had her in tears repeatedly and never once showed any signs of being moved by the emotional flow. The hour was double hell for Blair Sandburg. Even though he knew Jim was not going to press charges against either one of them, since Jim had long ago flushed the evidence, he was subjected to watching a gentle soul and dear friend being emotionally pulverized by his best friend...and it was all his fault. He knew that this was exactly what Jim wanted him to feel. This was the punishment Jim felt appropriate for this particular crime. Blair, himself, would have been in tears, but he was too busy holding Bobbi and trying to offer her reassurance and support.
When the lecture and dressing down was over, Blair was holding Bobbi Rowland in the corner of his office while she cried uncontrollably on his shoulder. Jim merely got up, acted as if it were any other day in Sandburg's office and departed with a "See you at home, Chief. Your turn to do dinner."
Blair could not believe the stone-hard, tight-faced man who had just psychologically whipped him and his friend. Blair knew that Jim could register Bobbi's and his heart rate, and he knew Jim could very well gage the fear and anxiety both of them were experiencing for the last hour. Yet, Jim had been as cold and uncaring as if they were mass murderers in his interrogation room at the station. Damn you, Jim. Blair thought. You can just go ahead and fix your own damn dinner tonight.
When Jim left Sandburg's office his headache was unbearable. The kid was definitely sending him to an early grave. Simon had often commented that time in the Sandburg Zone could prove detrimental to one's mental and physical health...if only he knew. Jim had felt like a complete martinet back there. He felt his heart break when Bobbi Rowland started to cry. Jim was not a monster; Sandburg acted like he didn't think Jim had a heart. The looks he was levelling at Jim during the strong lecture hurt Jim more than he would ever admit. Jim was fully aware that Bobbi was a caring and compassionate soul. The poor girl was sucked in by Sandburg puppy-dog eyes and puppy-dog whining. Only the truly heartless could claim immunity from that particular demonstration of pathetic pleading.
Jim had noticed the headaches were becoming more frequent during the last couple months. They had started just after he had bonded senses with Vincent, a panther. Incacha had come to Jim in a dream and told him that the panther needed his help in protecting Monica Birke, a zoologist who was selected and stalked by a serial killer. Jim's own heightened senses had increased to beyond their even super level, and he had attained the ease and comfort that animals experience with their inhuman sensory level. Jim had, for a while, become like the panther...he and Vincent had bonded and fused. Once David Jason was dead and Vincent no longer needed to protect Monica, Jim was abandoned and was once again a Sentinel and nothing more nor less.
Then Jim had started to notice the terrible headaches. They were, at first, quite infrequent, but lately, when dealing with Sandburg's obfuscations, whenever he began to lose patience with Sandburg's defensive tactics, or when Sandburg started pestering him about tests or issues Jim just didn't want to discuss, he began to have these unbearable pressure headaches. He even began to call them Sandburg attacks. Jim knew it was unfair to the kid, but if Jim had a headache, Blair was some how the catalyst.
After the administration of such severe punishment, Jim was totally wiped out. So he headed back to the loft. He had planned his strategy well in dealing with the totally pissed off anthropologist. He would totally tune him out. He would remain at all times pleasant and friendly, no matter how beligerent Sandburg would become. He would offer the kid understanding and patience, never losing his own temper, and always smiling through it all. He only prayed he could hold up to these promises and that his headaches would not cause him to commit a major crime of his own. Simon would not be a happy man if he had to arrest and convict his best detective for killing his partner.
When Jim left Blair's office, it took Blair a whole hour to calm Bobbi down. He was finally able to penetrate the panic and fear and calmly reason her into a state of rest. "Come on, Bobbi, there's a pub off campus. Let me buy you some dinner. We could both use a drink. I know Jim seemed to be a real hard ass here; but Bobbi, he's a decent guy, and I know he's not going to do anything to either one of us. He just wants us to never do it again." Blair tried to reason with her, knowing that he was acting quite the hypocrite himself. He certainly wasn't in a very forgiving frame of mind where Jim Ellison was concerned right now.
When they got to the pub, they took a booth in the dark, far reaches of the back section. Blair wanted intimacy and privacy. They were both still trying to sort out the details of their short criminal past, and like two co-conspirators were planning their escape into a crime-free future. They knew they had better be successful or one macho, over-bearing, Joe Friday-like cop was going to be all over them like lights on a Christmas tree. They both shuddered at that particularly unpleasant thought.
"Bobbi, I am really sorry I ever got you mixed up in this. I know it's no excuse, but I told him your name when I was a bit feverish. I like to think if I had been in my right mind, I would have taken your name to the grave," Blair said with a slight smile on his lips. He was trying to show Bobbi some humor in the situation. God, he needed to cheer her up. They both ordered some wine. Neither one was hungry at this point. They still needed to relax and stop shaking. Jim had really put the fear of God in both of them. The man could be totally convincing as a force to be reconned with. Blair remembered when Jim had come for him at the University cabin in the mountains. When Jim was in full military mode, he made Rambo look like Mrs. Doubtfire.
They sat and talked for the next hour ordering several more glasses of wine. Neither one of them yet hungry. By the sixth glass of wine, Blair Sandburg, who never finished his breakfast and hardly touched lunch, was smashed. Bobbi Rowland was three glasses behind him, being a slower drinker and munching on popcorn. Her stomach had been full from lunch and she was handling the spirits a lot better.
"Bobbi, Bobbi...I am totally...like wasted...oh, man, Jim's going to kill me, and right now I don't think I even give a shit," Blair said...hiccupped...and started to giggle uncontrollably.
"Blair, come on Blair. You've got to eat something. You're in no shape to drive home." Bobbi tried to reason with him, but Blair was in a fine good humor and everything she said caused him to burst out laughing.
"Blair, give me your keys. You can't drive in your condition," Bobbi said forcefully.
"Am I pregnant?" Blair asked and started to howl with laughter.
"Wait right here," Bobbi said as she slid from the booth. "I have to use the little girl's room," and she left Blair to his own hysterical musings.
A full half hour had passed as Bobbi had tried desperately to get Blair to eat something. He was in a pleasantly, stubborn humor. He was acting like a big, happy, cuddly baby. Some people became angry, beligerent drunks, but apparently Blair Sandburg loved everyone. He told Bobbi how much she meant to him. She sat there and humored him, told him what a good friend he was and how she didn't hold him responsible for getting her in trouble. Bobbi genuinely liked Sandburg. She saw in him a common soul who understood people, their fears, their failings, and their need for acceptance. She did not want to see him hurt on her account or anyone elses.
"Hey, Chief, how's it going?" Jim Ellison stood next to Blair Sandburg looking down at his completely soused friend.
"Detive Leson...fine and daddy," Blair tried to enunciate, failing miserably in all attempts at allocution. Jim noted how Blair tried to push his face into a serious mask of maturity and responsibility. The classic drunk maneuver of "I can handle my liquor."
Jim looked at the grief stricken face of Bobbi Rowland. He softened. "Thanks for calling me, Ms. Rowland. You are exactly what Blair said you are, a caring person and a good friend."
Then to Blair, "Come on, Chief, time for beddy bye,"
Blair thought this was the funniest thing he had ever heard. "See, Bobbi, I tole ya Jim's a good guy," and Blair tried to pat Jim's cheek to emphasize his point, but he kept missing the mark. "Jim's my best friend in all the world, 'cept for you, you're my friend, too, I got lotsa friends---but Jim's my bestest...bestest there is. I don't deserve such good friends...I've been bad, haven't I Jim, but Jim's still my friend," Blair continued his tribute. Jim helped him stand up, but was forced to support most of Blair's weight. The kid could barely stand on his two legs. "Ms. Rowland, I'll drop you off first," and when he saw her hesitate seeking an avenue of escape, he insisted. "No offense, Miss, but you're in no shape to drive either." So Roberta Rowland followed Jim Ellison and the giddy anthropologist out the door.
When Jim finally got Sandburg in the elevator and up to the loft, the effervescent, young grad student was anything but joyous. The whole ride to Bobbi's apartment Blair had professed his love for Jim and Bobbi. What good friends he had. How he cared for them and he knew they cared for him. He was a sentimental fountain of tribute to friends all over the world. He cried at the thought of how lucky he was and even at one point told Jim how sorry he was for being such a bad boy. Bobbi and Jim just exchanged knowing glances and shared an ice-breaking laugh at the warmth their mutual friend was projecting. They both knew he was in for some sobering consequences at the porcelain altar.
Now as Jim half carried Blair through the door, he could see his roommate turning shades of green. "Oh, man, I'm gonna be sick, Jim...oh, Jim," and Jim barely managed to get his friend to the bathroom before the eruption began full force. Jim spent the next hour holding Blair's head, putting cold compresses on his forehead, and generally speaking soothing words to comfort and ease. Eventually Blair had nothing left to offer up. Jim stripped him and put him in a cold shower. Blair protested, but he was in no shape to override Jim Ellison's wishes. Jim then helped dry him off and dressed him in sweats and a t-shirt. He helped Blair to bed and tucked his pale, remorseful Shaman into bed, knowing full well that tomorrow held its own retribution.
The strangest attribute of human nature is self-delusion. How often
in the recesses of our reasoning and understanding we realize that we are
wrong. We know we hold a grudge too long, we know there was no harmful
intent, we comprehend fully all points of view; yet, we build the fortress,
protect the issues, and load the cannons. Is it war we really seek, or
is it just that the adult in us needs to take the child in hand.
Part Two: Storm Warnings
Jim walked into Major Crimes looking like shit. The other detectives quickly looked up and noted the haggard slump to his usually broad, straight shoulders. There were dark circles beginning to form under his eyes, and the laugh lines were now deep, grim ridges that gave him a bitter, sardonic look. His contemplative, stoic expression now appeared to be a look of lost bewilderment. Something was definitely wrong on the home front.
"Ellison, my office," Simon punctuated the quiet air with his loud, forceful command.
Ellison put his hands on his desk and helped to push himself into an upright position. He swayed for a moment and looked like he might need a push to get some momentum going in the direction of his Captain's office.
"Jim, come on in and close the door," Simon said as he stood by his coffee pot and started his usual morning fueling routine. He motioned the pot in Jim's direction and grabbed another cup in acknowledgment to Ellison's nod. Jim took the seat opposite Simon's desk and slowly lowered his huge frame down. Simon reached over and placed the cup on the edge of his desk in front of Jim and paused momentarily to say, "Jim, you look like shit. What the hell's wrong with you?"
"Nothing, Simon, I'm just a little tired, lately." Jim tried to sound matter of fact. He wasn't fooling Simon Banks, Captain of Major Crimes and Jim's friend, in the least. The dark brown eyes bore holes into Jim. Jim merely shrugged and turned to stare out the window. God, Simon thought, He talks about Sandburg diversion techniques. This guy's a master of hiding his feelings and pushing away all efforts to storm the fortress. Everybody in Major Crimes has been talking about the change in Jim Ellison over the last two months. Well it's damn time I pull him in and find out what's eating away at him.
"Come on, Jim, it's me, Simon. You taking lessons from Sandburg now in obfuscation and evasion. Everyone with eyes around here can see that something's been eating away at you for the last two months. Why don't you just tell me about it, or if you don't feel comfortable with me, why don't you talk to the department shrink. If it's not psychological, Jim, it could be physical. I won't have my best detective walking around like death warmed over." Simon was in his full, authoritarian mode. This was not just friend talking to friend, it was commanding officer commanding one of his men.
"Simon, I'm fine. I've just had these bad headaches lately. It's probably the weather, or sinuses, or maybe just some tension."
"What tension, Jim. Major Crimes has been quiet around here for the last couple of weeks. A break in the crime spree is not cause for tension headaches. The only other possibility is leftover angst from the Sandburg Zone," Simon said as he picked up a cigar and started admiring it. "And something, Jim, tells me that that is exactly what it is."
"Well, Simon, Blair has been really pissed at me lately. I don't want to go into the details, they're really very personal, but he and I don't see eye-to-eye on an issue and he is in total disagreement with some action I took. He's been showing me his disapproval in every way he can. The kid is quite imaginative and is putting it to his full advantage. I'm trying to handle it maturely, but I guess suppressing my own anger is causing the stress headaches. The kid will get over it in a few days...right now it's a done deal and there's not a hell of lot he can do about it. I think he'll see the light in a few days. Sandburg's usually a cheerful, easy-going guy. He can't be angry at anyone for too long."
"Well, you better handle this Ellison. I'm getting a little tired of seeing you sulk around here. Where the hell is Sandburg anyway? I thought this semester his classes were the first half of the week and he was free to help you the rest of the week. I know there's a ton of paperwork on your desk that needs to be pushed back into the stream."
"Right now, he's at death's door. When I left he was still in bed, but I know he has a class this morning. I heard him grumbling when I left. The kid got himself plastered last night. His car is still near the campus, so I have no idea how he intends to get there. I left him a note to give me a call and I'll drive him in. His class is late this morning."
Jim saw the dark scowl that now crossed Simon's face. He didn't want Simon to pry into this particular problem. Simon would not be as understanding and reasonable as Jim was about illegal substances being treasured and preserved for possible future use.
"Sir, it's not his fault. He's not a cop. Sandburg's philosophies don't always work in the real world and it's sometimes hard for him to grasp. Remember the armored car explosion. Sandburg didn't really see anything wrong with poor people keeping the money. He understands people's motives and sometimes tends to overlook the system and the rules."
"Jim, don't tell me this disagreement you had had something to do with illegal activity." Simon asked now putting two and two together, and when in the Sandburg Zone you came up with anything but four.
"Sir, the matter is handled," was the only answer Jim Ellison would give his superior as he stoically returned to gazing out at the great outdoors.
"O.K....O.K., Jim, I don't really want to know. Ignorance is indeed bliss when dealing with Sandburg. Just don't let the kid run you into the ground."
When Blair Sandburg woke up his head was in a vice. Every movement was misery. Sound penetrated his brain in loud obnoxious decibels. He felt a moment of pity for Jim...how the hell does he handle this every day. He had a class at 11. He could not miss it. It was his last class of the week, but he had missed several classes this semester helping Jim, and then there was that bout of flu and pneumonia last semester. He just couldn't afford any more sick time. He trudged off slowly and carefully to the bathroom and took a long, cool shower.
When he saw the note on the kitchen counter from Jim, he grimaced. Jim had told him to call him if he needed a ride to his car. No thanks, big guy, you'll probably arrest me for disorderly conduct last night and abandoning my vehicle in a public lot. Remember, you're a COP! Blair thought to himself, sarcastically. He knew he was being unfair to Jim. He remembered Jim coming to get him in the bar last night and holding his head when he got home. Jim really didn't deserve to be treated this way, but Blair just could not get over the resentment he felt over the hour he and Bobbi had spent at Jim's mercy.
One of Blair's fellow TA's lived several blocks away. He and Blair often shared rides when their schedules permitted. He called Ricky Sanders who said he would gladly pick Blair up and drop him off at his car. Ricky had no classes, but was heading to the campus library to do some research.
When Ricky left Blair off in the parking lot of the pub, Blair drove to his office. When he got to his class his head was killing him. He couldn't hold any food down and he was a study in misery. So much for ever drinking another glass of wine again in his life, Blair thought. After class he headed for his office. Waiting outside his office door was Bobbi. When Blair saw her, he smiled sheepishly at her.
"Hey, Bobbi, how're you doing?" Blair asked hoping Bobbi didn't think too badly of him after last night's fiasco.
"I'm fine, Blair. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I wasn't sure if you would make it in today." Bobbi said as Blair opened his office and ushered her in.
"I'm really sorry about last night, Bobbi. I really made a fool of myself. I'm sorry you had to call Jim. You shouldn't have been subjected to another one of his lectures...one is always enough to last a lifetime."
Bobbi noted the bitterness in Blair's voice, and she felt terrible. She was intelligent enough to see the way Jim Ellison cared for Blair Sandburg. If Detective Ellison came down hard on the both of them yesterday, it was a reprimand fueled by concern and a protective instinct. The brief moment that passed between the two of them when Blair was waxing sentimental had torn down the wall that Bobbi had felt the need to put up between herself and Jim Ellison. She now knew he was a man of honor, and a man who could be trusted. Why did Blair act like he didn't know that? Bobbi knew how pigheaded men could be and Blair was hurt easily. They had often had late night conversations concerning life and death and compassion and mercy. Blair had a soul that was sensitive and gentle...easily hurt by the slightest wrong. To all the world, Bobbi knew that Blair put up a front of bouncing back with a shrug of his shoulders, but underneath he hid the pain and hurt.
"Blair, Jim's a decent guy. I saw that last night when I called him to come and get you. I don't want your protective instinct where I'm concerned to get in the way of your friendship with him. The man cares deeply for you. Don't push him away out of need to punish him on my behalf. It's not fair to him and it's not fair to put that kind of guilt on me."
"Bobbi, this has nothing to do with you. I was the one who screwed up. Jim should have kept you out of it. At least as a personal favor to me. Jim's always a cop first. I can't help but feel he betrayed our friendship."
"I don't think you really believe that, Blair. I heard you talking last night. You were drunk out of your mind,...cute, but drunk. You had nothing but praise for Jim. I know that deep down inside, when you're not putting up this shield of hurt, you really trust and believe in Jim's friendship. Stop kidding yourself. You can push someone away sometime, and before you know it, it's too late to get them back. Don't risk doing that with Jim."
Bobbi watched her friend. He seemed to agree with what she was saying, but she could tell it was not going to be easy for him to just drop this incident and forget this imagined wrong.
"I've given the lecture a lot of thought. Jim was absolutely right. I'm just lucky it was your friend who found out about this and not some other, by-the-book cop. I realize now how foolish it was of me to mix those drugs for you; and you, Blair, you never should have asked." Now Bobbi could see Blair wince, and she knew it was his own self-guilt that made him lash out so strongly against Jim. Blair had done a stupid thing and pulled her along with him.
"Now, my friend," she said as she rose and planted a kiss on Blair's cheek, "I would suggest you apologize to your friend and thank him for being such a good one." Bobbi left Blair standing there, totally nonplussed. He never expected Bobbi to be so forgiving on this issue, nor for her to take Jim's side over his.
When Blair got to the station, he saw Jim hunched over his desk looking worn out. He was trying to tackle some paperwork, and from the look of things the paperwork was winning. He tought of all the things Jim Ellison went out of his way to do for him. The trips to the University to pick Blair up or drop things off, the calls in the middle of the night when Blair was stranded on some road because his car decided to die out, the life and death situations Blair repeatedly got himself into and Jim got him out of just in a nick of time...surely these things outweighed this one wrong...surely.
"Hey, man, how's it going?" Blair asked in his former good cheer.
"Fine, Chief," Jim said somewhat surprised by Blair's good spirits. He could see the pale face that still bore testimony to last nights excesses. "How are you feeling?"
"Not great, man, I don't think I'll be drinking for some time....definitely not my sport, man," Blair said as he sat down in a chair next to Jim.
"Hey, Jim, why don't you let me help you with the paperwork. You know I can knock that stuff off for you in half the time," Blair said. Jim gave him an appreciative smile and offered his chair to Blair. Blair could certainly type faster than Jim and he had a way of succintly handling the reporting end of Jim's investigations.
Just then a man of about 40 came in with a young man of about 20. He stopped to check out the bullpen and immediately headed towards Jim's desk when he spotted the tall man rise.
"Detective Ellison," the man said as he extended his hand to Jim. "I'm Danny's father, Bill Freedman. I'd just like to thank you for letting my son off the hook yesterday. He said the lecture you gave him will keep him from ever doing anything that stupid again. I realize you could have played it by the book, but I really appreciate you making an allowance in Danny's case."
"Glad I could help him, Mr. Freedman," Jim said to the man, but he turned to Danny Freedman who stood beside his father. "I won't go so easy on you next time, though, Danny. Don't make a fool of me and let me ever catch you breaking the law again, you got that?" Jim asked as Danny lowered his head and mumbled something.
Danny's father poked him in the ribs, and Danny immediately looked up at Jim and rephrased his answer, "Yes, sir. Thank you."
When they left, Blair couldn't help taking a stab at Jim again. "So I guess you don't always play it by the book, ha, Jim. I guess you only stick to the rules where your roommate is concerned." Why could Jim overlook the rules when other people were involved, but he had to play it right down the middle when Blair screwed up. It just didn't seem fair to Blair.
Jim gave Blair a sad, tired look. He turned around and noticed Simon Banks standing in the door watching the whole drama play out before him.
So I was right, Simon thought. Blair did something just outside the law and Jim wouldn't let it slide. Since the kid didn't agree with the way Jim handled it he was taking every cheap pot shot he could at Jim. Simon knew the kid was wearing Jim down. No doubt the cop was feeling guilty over betraying Blair's trust. Where Sandburg was concerned Jim's protective instincts kicked in overtime.
Blair Sandburg, new age hippie was the last person Simon Banks would have ever seen as the man to anchor James Ellison, of Co-vert Ops. Jim Ellison was a man of steel. He was wired hard, tuned fine, and sharply honed. He was a cop, first, foremost, and always. However when he discovered his heightened senses and how easy it was for him to lose control with zone outs, he was a man beside himself, lost and alone. When the young anthropologist had heard about Jim Ellison's senses, he had offered understanding and guidance. What began as a union of convenience became a bond of friendship and devotion.
Within weeks, Blair Sandburg was living in Ellison's loft, nestled in his heart where only friends are housed, and safely tucked beneath Jim's protective wings. To Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg was friend, brother, son, and Guide and Shaman. The reciprocation of these feelings was obvious to all who knew either man. Both men had somehow seemed incomplete until their joining. Where Jim was a physical mass of hard muscles and grim determination who intimidated most men with a simple look, Sandburg was a highly intelligent, free spirit, whose easy going manner made everyone feel at ease. Simon had never thought he would see anyone bring Jim Ellison to the brink of humanity the way Blair Sandburg did. Jim was Simon's problem-child until Jack Pendergast had straightened his butt out. Jack had brought Jim into the line of authority, and Blair had given him back his humanity.
Whatever rift had come between the two men was taking its toll on both. Simon felt, as their friend, a little personal intervention might be necessary. Jim could be stubborn some times, and Blair could go off the mark with his philosophical perspective. Somebody needed to bring these two back in sync.
Blair left the station after the paperwork was finished. Jim had made himself scarse as Blair worked at his desk. On his way home, Blair picked up some pasta and sauce for dinner. When Jim walked through the door several hours later, Blair had dinner ready.
"Thanks for thinking of dinner, Chief," Jim said as he took off his coat and hung it up. "I have to admit, I'm kind of wiped out today."
Blair noted the tired circles under Jim's eyes as he sat down at the table. Maybe Jim's conscience was getting to him.
"You haven't been looking too good lately, Jim, maybe you should see a doctor. Are your senses working o.k.?" Blair asked truly concerned about his Sentinel.
"I'm fine, just tired, that's all. Major Crimes has been really quiet lately. Sometimes I think inactivity is more tiring than hard work. Thanks for stopping by at the station today, Chief. I don't think that paperwork would ever have gotten done today if I had to do it," he said as he sat down at the table.
"Bobbi stopped by my office today, Jim. She wanted me to know she doesn't hold anything against me, and she thinks you're a pretty great guy and a good friend, but she doesn't know how you selectively apply the rules to only your friends." Blair said as he put the plates on the table, not being able to resist the small, smart-ass addendum.
"Seems she's handling this thing a lot more maturely than you are, Sandburg," Jim said, and then he could have bitten his lip completely off. He immediately knew it was not the thing to say to Blair.
"Damn it, Jim," Blair started, "How can you even say that to me. You seem to go out of your way to overlook rules and regulations and the law where everyone is concerned but me. I know I screwed up, man, but I just think that you owe it to me to cut me some slack some time." Blair said in what came out to Jim as a petulant pout.
"Sandburg, we've been over and over this already. I'm tired of hashing it out repeatedly with you. I HAD NO CHOICE, DAMN IT! Can't you get that through your thick skull."
"Oh, I understand completely, Detective Ellison. Do you want to arrest me for drunk and disorderly for last night's little episode?" Blair said as he offered his wrists out in front of him as though waiting for Jim to put the cuffs on his hands.
Jim Ellison slammed his hand down hard on the table sending liquid flowing over cups and silverware clattering. Sandburg blanched, but held the innocent eyed look of "what did I do wrong?" Jim got up, put his coat on and slammed out of the loft.
God, Blair thought. What the hell is wrong with me? Jim didn't deserve to be treated like that. Why am I punishing him. Maybe because he's always on me. Always setting down house rules, telling me to stay put or go here, brushing me off when he thinks I'm a nuisance. I wish he could have just brushed off finding my cigar box. He still had no right to invade my privacy.
Just then the phone rang. "Blair Sandburg."
"Blair, how's it going, man?" Darryl Banks asked his friend. Darryl had taken an immediate liking to the youthful anthropologist. Simon couldn't understand it, but he was glad his son had someone older...not completely wiser...but more stable than some of his teenage friends to talk to.
"Hey, Darryl, what's up, man?"
"My Dad and I are going up to my Aunt Eddie's this weekend. We're leaving late tomorrow afternoon. My dad says you don't have any classes the end of the week and since my dad says the department isn't really working on any major cases, he said I could ask you to come along. I know it's short notice, man, but I've got this class paper due next week. I decided to do mine on my family roots. My dad's family comes from a small town near the mountains and I thought I'd get some pictures of the town and talk to my Aunt Eddie about my dad's family and childhood. Dad's supplying the camera equipment, and I thought you could help me take pictures and compile some information. I'd really appreciate it, Blair."
Blair thought this out for a few moments. It would do him good to get away from Jim. Darryl was always fun to be around. Simon could be easily irritated by Blair, but Blair could stay out of his way. "Yeah, Darryl, I guess that would be o.k. I don't think Jim would miss me." Blair said suggesting work assistance, but meaning the absence of his friendship.
"Great, Blair. My Dad has to put up an antennae for my aunt, so it's pretty much just going to be you and me doing the town." Blair laughed at Darryl's youthful enthusiasm and began to feel pretty good about getting away for the weekend. He needed some time to reflect and get his thoughts together. A little time away from each other may be just the thing he and Jim needed.
"My Dad says he'll pick you up at the loft at 3. Oh, and could I use your laptop, Blair? I can transfer the data to diskette and get a head start on the writing of my report. Is that o.k. with you?"
"Fine, man, that's great. This should be fun."
When Darryl hung up the phone and told his dad about the plans, Simon smiled to himself. Half the plan was set in motion, now he had to bring the Mountain to Mohammed.
When Jim Ellison entered Major Crimes on Thursday morning, Simon Banks had left a hand-written note on his desk. "I want to see you in my office ASAP."
Jim got up and immediately went in to see his Captain. "Jim," Simon began. "I have a proposition for you. Since it's been quiet around here, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me and Darryl up to my Aunt Eddie's. We're leaving this afternoon. I have to do some repairs around her house and I promised her I'd put up an antennae. I could use the help and I think you could use a short vacation. What do you say? Can I talk you into some time in a small, quiet, country town."
"I don't know, Simon, I must say it sounds good. I think some time away from Sandburg and his snippy little comments might do me a world of good." Jim said as he looked out the window and reflected. He was so tired, he could certainly use some vacation time. The headaches were getting worse, and after last night's little explosion he was hardly able to get any sleep at all when he returned to the loft.
"Well, Jim, you won't be completely away from Sandburg. Darryl's already asked him to come with us. Darryl needs his help on a school project he's doing. But look," Simon said as he saw Jim ready to protest, "you two will hardly see each other most of the weekend. Darryl and Blair will be off in the town doing research and taking pictures. You and I will be doing some odds and ends around Eddie's place. Jim, I promise you some great dinners. The country air will be just the thing for your headaches."
"Oh, all right, Simon. The change of scenery might do wonders for one spoiled little brat right now. I know I can't take much more of his snippy little attitude. Yeah, count me in," Jim said as he rose, "I'll stop at the loft this morning and pack my duffle."
Then as Jim reached the door to his Captain's office, he turned with a small grin on his face, "Oh, Simon...thanks."
"Just don't tell Sandburg, yet, that you're going. Darryl and I will handle him when the time comes. Get out of here now, you're not off work yet, mister," Simon said irritably trying to suppress the grin and his embarrassment. Jim saw right through his little plan. Well, Ellison was o.k. with everything, there was still the problem child to deal with. He was not going to be a happy camper when he realized Jim was going, too.
Sandburg's mood had picked up dramatically with the dawning of Thursday morning. He was really looking forward to going off on this trip with Darryl and Simon. He always loved exploring new towns and new people, and Darryl was asking for his help on this paper. He was going to see that Darryl got an A+ on his presentation. Sandburg packed his duffle, his computer, and some books for his own reading. He then skipped out of the loft to pick up some last minute personal items.
When Jim stopped by at the loft mid-morning to pack, Sandburg was out. He noticed the bags packed and waiting by Blair's door. He wondered if Blair would back out of this trip if he knew Jim was going. Well, Simon was handling it so Jim just packed his bags and headed back to the station.
When 2:30 arrived, Simon told Jim he was going to pick up Darryl and Blair and he would come back to the station and pick up Jim. "I don't want Sandburg backing out of this. It's too important to Darryl and he's really excited about spending the long weekend with him. Meet me in front of the building at 3."
"When he sees me, Simon, he's probably going to jump out of the car."
"I have power door locks. Trust me, Jim, the kid's not going anywhere."
After Simon and Darryl picked Blair up in front of the loft, Darryl was seated in the front of his Dad's Chrysler and Blair was in the back. They had put Blair's luggage in the trunk. Simon locked the doors and they took off. Just as they came near the station, Blair noticed Darryl turn to manually open the lock on the passenger door, he turned quickly and crawled over the seat into the back alongside Blair. In all the flurry of body and motion, Blair barely realized they had quickly stopped and Jim Ellison tossed his duffle on the floor and jumped into the passenger seat. Simon immediately sped off like the getaway car at a robbery.
"What's going on?" Blair asked angrily to the back of Simon's head. "I thought it was just the three of us?"
"Oh, didn't I mention it, Sandburg?" Simon asked innocently. "Jim's coming along to help me do some repairs and put up an antennae. You're going to be busy helping Darryl. I needed a play friend of my own."
"Simon, this is like so unfair...this sucks, man." Blair turned to look at Darryl and saw no sympathy there. The kid had a big grin on his face and his Dad placed the flat palm of his hand parrallel to the seat and Darryl and Simon slapped hands...it was indeed a conspiracy Blair thought as he turned a burning gaze to the back of Jim's head.
Old people. God love them. In their grumpy dispositions and their
tired old eyes wisdom speaks out to us. There is abiding humor in their
tolerance of our immaturity and they see us as we one day will be. What
they do not know, they never needed to know. But what they do know speaks
lifetimes of passages and partings. Listen when they speak, they say volumes
with their silence.
Part Three: Low Hanging Clouds
The three hour ride to the small, back woods community was a session of constant chattering. First, Darryl took it upon himself to explain his whole project to Blair. He talked about his father's family history, all his uncles and aunts, his grandparents, and especially his great-aunt Eddie. Edwina Banks was Simon's aunt, the youngest of five children. Taking care of four older brothers and her aging parents most of her life, left little time for Eddie to be courted and wed. Simon and Darryl spoke of her with fond memories, but they warned Jim and Blair that Eddie was a force to be reconned with when she was angered.
They stopped for coffee and a short break at a small truck stop off the expressway. Blair and Darryl sat on one side of the booth and Jim and Simon on the other. The two large men were cramped, but Blair immediately chose Darryl's side, still pissed off and trying to avoid contact with Jim. Once during the quick snack, Blair surreptitiouly looked up at Jim's face. Simon caught the observation, but said nothing. Couldn't the kid see how tired and haggard Jim was looking. Didn't he realize Jim was being unusually uncommunicative during this whole trip. What the hell did he need to do, shake the kid until his teeth rattled to get him to see reason.
The remainder of the trip, Blair did seem to be in a lighter frame of mind. He and Darryl had pulled his laptop out of the trunk and were playing some kind of a word game on the computer. Every so often they would get into some kind of verbal argument about being fair and blatant cheating. Simon looked over at Jim who seemed to be lost in thought, but every now and then he had a smile on his face when Blair let out an excited laugh or won a round.
"How's the head, Jim?" Simon asked when he was certain the back seat passengers were totally oblivious to those in the front seat.
"Fine, Simon. I'm just tired. I haven't been sleeping too well lately." Jim said as he looked over at Simon. "Do you want me to take the wheel for a while?"
"No, we should be there by 6:30...7 at the latest. If I know Eddie, she'll have more food waiting for us than we can eat. Probably fried chicken, corn bread, honey, the best mashed potatoes you could ever dream of eating, and Darryl's favorite chocolate cake. The woman spent her whole life taking care of her brothers and her parents...cooking is something she can do blindfolded," Simon said dreamily, "The woman makes the best homemade bread, fresh in the morning. Bacon, eggs, sausages. I can assure you of one thing, we won't go hungry this weekend."
"Sounds almost too good to be true," Jim said. "After my mom died, I kind of missed a woman's touch in the kitchen. Never knew either of my grandmothers. My dad made sure Stephen and I learned to cook early on. Carolyn was never into cooking." Simon noticed the wistful look on Jim Ellison's face. If it's mothering you're missing, Jimmy, mothering you're gonna get, Simon thought, Eddie Banks has a way of picking up on exactly what people need. She's even better than Sandburg in the people-to-people department. If anyone can get these two stubborn jackasses together again, Eddie can.
Wistful Falls was a quiet little town. As they passed through the center of town, Blair Sandburg's face was pressed against the window. This was the type of home town he had always dreamed of living in. Naomi Sandburg was an itinerant, free-spirited hippie. Her whole view on life was never becoming deeply embedded in any one place. The world was there for the taking and she made sure that Blair knew it too. She never really stopped long enough to analyze the fact that maybe her young son wanted something more out of life, something a bit more permanent. Since Blair loved his mother dearly and always felt she put him and his happiness first, he never voiced any objections to her free flight. He was always willing to do as she wished and never look back.
However, now as he saw this vision before him, this dream of everything he had always wanted, he was like a kid at Christmas. There was a small, old fashioned library at the corner of one street, an ice cream parlor, barber shop, drug store, bakery, hardware store, and small grocery store. The large supermarket and shopping center had been at the very outskirts of town. There was a small family-style restaurant, beauty shop, and card shop. In the center of the town was a small square with a gazebo and park. The huge white-steepled Church was down a side street and the public school across the street. This was small-town America in its quaintest form.
Jim Ellison was looking out the window of the passenger side. He, too, was mesmerized by the picture-perfect scene before him. However, his vision focused in on the side view mirror that captured the yearning face of his young friend behind him. Sandburg did not see Jim looking at him through this magic passage of mirrors, so he never realized that Jim saw the tears welling in his eyes, the biting down on his lower lip, and the volume of messages that were passed on to the older man by the spectral image in glass. The kid had longings Jim Ellison understood. Both of them had in many ways been deprived of the traditional family structure. Jim with his hard-edged, firm-handed father, not particularly big on affection and the nurturing of brotherly love, had missed the warm loving touch of a mother during the years he needed her the most. Sandburg, whose mother doted on him and excused all recalcitrant behavior as free-spirited strong will, missed the strong-structured demands a father would have placed upon him. Sandburg who passed through life without roots and solid foundation often teetered on the tip of social acceptance, charm being the shield to ward off most rejections. Even now, Jim knew the reason Blair couldn't handle his taking charge of him and Bobbi was the absence of an authority figure in Blair's young life. Blair just wasn't use to a man taking him in hand and making him tow the line.
As they proceeded through the town, just before they completely left this small commune behind, they turned down a dirt road and came upon a small acreage of land. In the middle was situated a big, white, wood-framed, two-story country house, complete with large porch, and trellis work. There was a dilapidated old barn a ways off from the house and several sheds scattered throughout the yard. Jim's first thought was he didn't relish climbing up on that roof to put up an antennae; Simon thought of childhood memories, swings hanging from trees, warm summer afternoons on the porch with lemonade. Darryl thought of being embraced by large, soft arms, pulling him into huge breasts and chocolate cake to die for. Blair Sandburg felt a lump rise in his throat. When he was a child he had cut out of a magazine the picture of a home similar to this. This was to him the epitome of home. This was what motherhood, apple pie, summer days, and family memories were all about. They were not his memories; no family albums of his held these snapshots; no inner eye could visualize such a refuge from any storm in the archives of his childhood. But in his soul, in his deepest dreams, and in the child that still lived within, this was what home was all about.
Blair Sandburg, Anthropologist, was very well aware of the impressions left on young minds by television shows, movies, and magazine ads. He knew that any articles on home living always featured homes similar to this in nature. He had never really bought into any of the hogwash. It was all delusion. Naomi often commented on social status and buying into the system. "You have to watch out, Blair; it's so easy to be drawn in by their little sales pitch. You and I know better, we belong to no one. We have only ourselves; we are truly free." But seeing this up front and knowing that Simon and Darryl had a piece of this fantasy in the realities that were their pasts, made Blair momentarily jealous.
For one brief moment, he looked at the back of Jim's head. This was the man who made home a very real word to Blair Sandburg. Before James Ellison had come into his life, he had no roots and no desire for any. Jim had taken him into his home, created a warm and comfortable environment to anchor the peripatetic young man, and given Blair all the things he had missed. For one brief moment, Blair wanted to reach over the front seat and put a hand on Jim's shoulder; a peace offering, a sign of apology for his stubborn, cruel behavior. Just then Blair's eyes were drawn to the side mirror and blue eyes locked on blue and some silent acknowledgment passed between the two men. The look acknowledged that here was a place where they could mend the wounds their friendship had suffered in the last few weeks...all they needed to do was make the effort.
Evening was settling down on Wistful Falls as they pulled into the yard. It was still winter, so the air was chilly and there was a strong wind kicking up its heels. Simon honked the horn to announce their arrival. The back door opened and onto the small, enclosed back porch Blair saw an apple-shaped woman moving about. Then the door to the screened in porch opened and a wild hoop of joy filled the backyard. Darryl ran into the arms of the tall, round woman and was immediately smothered against her breasts. Beside her stood the largest dog, Blair had ever seen. He looked to be a cross between a mastiff and a bear. His thick bull head was covered in a crown of fur, making him look like a lion. His hard muscled body glistened black and furry.
"Darryl, child, let me look at you. You are a big one, gonna be just like your Daddy. I can see that for sure. Your granddad was a tall one, too. We women folk have always been tall in the Banks clan, but the men folk...giants," she said as she rocked her captive back and forth in her warm embrace.
Simon came around the car to get the packages and bags out of the trunk. Eddie saw the young, long-haired man come slowly out of the back seat and she, of the sharp mind and quick eye, noted the tired, older man dragging himself out of the front seat. She noted the way the smaller man uncomfortably stepped away from the taller one. Water didn't pass too quickly under Eddie Bank's bridge; she knew every fish that went down her stream and something wasn't right with these two. She mentally noted: closer observation needed.
"Aunt Eddie, how've you been?" Simon asked her as she finally released his son for air and was enveloped by the huge man. It was now Eddie's turn to be lifted and swung off her feet. Edwina Banks stood just over five feet nine inches tall. She was a rounded woman with warm chocolate skin, huge liquid brown eyes, and white hair pulled severely into a bun at the nape of her neck. The cotton dress she wore came almost down to her ankles. Over the dress she wore a huge, pocketed apron with chickens running amok all over the front, and, (as Jim and Blair would soon learn) her ubiquitous kitchen towel slung over her shoulder...making her look armed and dangerous.
"Simon, my, my you are a sight for these tired old eyes," Eddie said as she was carefully repositioned on her own two feet. "I am so glad you could find the time from your busy schedule in that big city you police to help this old woman get her television back."
Then she turned to Blair and Jim who stood awkwardly off to the side, unsure of themselves. Normally Jim and Blair would be easily comfortable in most situations, but their tense relationship and the full force of welcome directed at Darryl and Simon, put them off their usually confident feet.
"How long are you going to wait to introduce me to these handsome gentlemen, Simon?" Eddie asked as she pulled the towel off her shoulder and swatted her nephew across the shoulders, "Where are those manners your daddy taught you?"
Simon laughed and took a step back. "Gentlemen, let me introduce you to the driving force behind the Bank's family. Edwina Banks, this handsome gentleman is my friend Jim Ellison," Simon said as Jim walked forward and shook the firm hand offered him, the other hand still held the dish towel. "Ma'm, Simon's told me a lot about you, I'm glad I finally got the opportunity to meet you." Jim then honored her with one of his boyish grins, and Eddie returned a high voltage one of her own.
"Whooeee, Simon, you sure do grow them cute and charming back in Cascade."
Simon continued the introductions, "And this gentleman is my friend and Jim's partner and roommate, Blair Sandburg." Simon missed the look of shock on Blair's face and the warm smile that was directed towards him. Blair had picked up quickly on the mention of him being Simon's friend, instead of Jim's friend. Blair felt momentarily taken aback, but pleased. The eagle eye of Eddie missed nothing in the exchange.
"Pleased to meet you, Blair," she said as she firmly took his offered hand and held it a little longer than necessary.
"Thank you, Ma'm, I hope I'm not putting you out." Blair said beginning to feel like an imposition. This woman had to be at least 70. She surely didn't need four men to fill her weekend and add to her chores. The place seemed far too big for one woman to handle.
Eddie slapped her towel against her left palm and pulled the towel threateningly across the palm. "Gentlemen," she said, eyeing both Jim and Blair, "let's get one thing straight. It's Eddie...just plain, simple, ole, Eddie...the next one who calls me 'Ma'm' will feel this towel across their backsides. And as far as impositions, young man," she continued directing a stern look upon Blair's blue, troubled eyes, "having four men under my roof is what my whole life has been about, taking care of four brothers. If I feel imposed upon, I will be the first and only one to make that decision."
Blair stepped back with a wide smile on his face, raised his hands in surrender and said, "Got it...got it," and he and Darryl both burst out laughing. Simon just shook his head and hoisted the bags on his shoulders. Then she turned her look on Jim, who had been standing quietly off to the side amused by Blair's discomfiture. When he noticed her eyeing him, his bright smile returned, "No trouble from me, Eddie," and he too raised his hands and stepped back in mock fear.
Simon grinned. Eddie had once again broken the ice and warmed the sea. This weekend was going to prove very interesting.
"And this warm, furry friend at my side is Doofus. Doofus and I are a pair. Cross one of us, you cross us both. He's a gentle baby, treat him accordingly," then she turned and led her band of merry men inside.
Eddie welcomed them into the huge, country kitchen. Blair was speechless as he entered this strange, comfortable room. It was huge. In the center was a large wood block table used for baking and chopping and preparing the meals. Off to the side in front of a huge stone fireplace was a long, antique table with eight chairs. The whole Bank's family must have sat here eating their meals, conversing over the day's work, and planning their futures. Blair felt a moment of wonder. This was real. This wasn't propaganda or the stuff of fairy tales and fiction, this was real.
Jim Ellison, too, was moved by this first view into the world of Eddie Banks. Jim's own childhood held few down-home family scenes to cherish. His stern father, often positioning himself between his two sons, feeding upon competitiveness and conflict, did not encourage warm family get togethers. Jim remembered a different time when his mother was still alive, but the memory was distant and vague. The child in Jim Ellison had longings similar to the child in Blair Sandburg. Perhaps that was why the adult in Jim Ellison was so tolerant of the child in Sandburg.
Darryl was assigned the duty of taking everyone upstairs and seeing them settled into their assigned rooms. Eddie's room was at the top of the stairs. Simon had the small bedroom next to Eddie's and Jim's was the one at the other end of the hall. Then Darryl and Blair took the large room across from Jim's. In this room three single beds lay in military-style rows across the floor. Across from each was a four-drawer bureau and a nightstand stood beside them with a small lamp. The room looked like a barracks. Darryl explained that Eddie's brothers slept here when they returned home for visits, but they were all gone now. Simon's own family members, cousins, nieces, nephews, now made ample use of the beds. The kids often had a great time in the huge room, and often laid sleeping bags on the floor for additional bodies.
Jim noted the relieved look on Blair's face when he realized he wouldn't have to share a room with Jim. Jim had the sneaky suspicion that Jim and Blair were originally intended to share the barrack room, but Darryl or Simon must have worked out the alternate sleeping arrangements.
God, when was the kid going to get over this. Jim thought as his headache returned full force. They put their bags on the chosen beds and each made a quick stop in the large bathroom between Simon and Jim's rooms.
When they entered the huge kitchen, dinner was sitting on the table. Simon was already seated at the head, Darryl to the left of Simon with his back to the hearth. Jim took the seat next to the empty one to Simon's right, assuming it belonged to Eddie, and Blair sat next to Darryl, directly across from Jim. Doofus lay on a huge pillow beside a rocking chair in the corner by the hearth.
After grace was said, they settled down for the huge feast. Southern fried chicken, corn bread and honey, stuffing, and the best mashed potatoes Jim and Blair had ever tasted. The conversation stayed light and friendly throughout the meal in deference to their hostess.
"So, Darryl, I hear part of the reason you came with your dad is because of a school assignment," Eddie asked her great nephew.
"Yeah, Eddie, Blair and I are going into town tomorrow. We're going to take pictures of Wistful Falls. Then check out the library and old newspapers. Blair's an anthropologist. He's very good at studying peoples and cultures. Maybe tonight or tomorrow night you could sit down and go over some family background information with me." Darryl asked hopefully.
"You, bet, young man," Eddie said. "Nothing is more important than your school work." Then she turned to Blair, "I thought you were a police officer like Simon and Jim, Blair?"
"Well, not exactly," Blair said, beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable. "I'm doing my doctorate on sub-cultures in the police department and Simon and Jim have been kind enough to let me observe, but I also help them on some of their cases, like a police consultant," he quickly added looking to Simon and Jim for any possible assistance. None was forthcoming.
"O.K. gentlemen, off to the living room with you," Eddie said when the meal was finished. When she noted Simon pulling out his cigar as he rose from the table, she pulled her towel off her shoulder and aimed it sharply at his rear, "Simon Banks you take that stinky ole thing out of my kitchen. I let you smoke that thing in the living room only, and you'd better open the window a crack." Simon jumped and made a quick move through the swinging door that led into the living room/parlor.
"Eddie, that was the best meal I think I've ever eaten," Jim said as he rose to follow Simon's lead. "Can I help you with the dishes?" Jim asked.
"YOU HEAR THAT SIMON? A GENTLEMAN!" Eddie shouted to her nephew in the other room. They heard a muffled grumble in reply. "It's a rare offer in a house of men, Jim, and I do thank you for the offer, but you go set yourself down in my parlor. These two young men seem more than eager to lend me a hand," she said as Darryl moaned and Blair jumped up eagerly to help.
"Come on, Darryl, it's the least we can do to repay your aunt," Blair said and Darryl slowly started clearing the table.
When they were alone in the kitchen, Eddie assigned Darryl the job of clearing the table; she was washing the dishes and Blair was assigned drying. When the table had been cleared, Darryl immediately brought it to her attention, and quickly left through the swinging door escaping to the other room.
As Eddie washed and Blair dried the dishes an easy conversation ensued. "So you and Jim are roommates and partners?" Eddie started.
"Yeah, Jim's my best friend." Blair said a little sadly. A fact that was not missed by Eddie.
"Excuse me for saying this, young man, but for best friends it seems you hardly talk to each other. Did you have some kind of falling out?" Eddie asked never taking her eyes off of her suds and dirty dishes.
"Jim's a great guy. I really respect him, but sometimes he adheres to rules and regulations. There's no grey with Jim, just black and white. It can drive a person crazy trying to stay within the boundaries. We had a disagreement about how to handle a certain personal situation. It just hurts me to think Jim can't forget the rules a little when they apply to me." Blair wasn't sure why he was telling this woman, whom he just met, intimate and personal details about his relationship with Jim, but it seemed right and natural. Blair felt he was a good judge of people and Eddie was quality by his standards.
"So, you think Jim owes you. You feel that even if Jim's a police officer and you break the law, you're entitled, simply by association, to immunity." Eddie asked, still not looking at the young man working next to her.
"No, I just think he should respect me enough to be willing to stretch the rules every now and then," Blair said, knowing now how foolish this all sounded when it was spoken out loud.
"Seems to me, Blair, that you don't respect Jim very much, if you expect him to do that. Seems to me for a person who spends his time studying people, you can't note certain things about your own roommate and friend," Eddie said now turning for the first time to pin Blair with a stern, penetrating gaze. "Seems to me, young man, that your friend is suffering from severe headaches. I'm no doctor, but my guess is they're stress headaches caused by this total lack of communication between the two of you. I've seen Jim wince every time you make some comment that deliberately excludes him or shows your disfavor of him. Are you deliberately trying to be cruel to him?" Eddie asked.
"No, no I don't want to hurt him...I just assumed the headaches were from his own guilt. He feels guilty about the way he handled this whole thing and he has a right to," Blair said stubbornly. Turning away from Eddie's gaze and concentrating intently on the dish he was now wiping.
"BULLSHIT, young man, and I'm not going to ask you to excuse my language," Eddie said loudly and adamantly. "I think your friend is suffering from headaches, because he's angry, too, and it seems to me he has every right to be. He probably would like to do nothing else than take you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you, but he cares for you, any idiot can see the way he monitors you every minute. In the short time I've seen you two together, I can see the way he sometimes focuses in on you, like it's an old habit he does without thinking. He's probably waiting for you to come to your senses. I hope he doesn't have to wait too long," Eddie said as she turned back to her sink of suds.
For some time Blair just stood there shocked that this woman had seen so much in so little time. He knew every word she said was true.
"I'm sorry, Eddie. I shouldn't be bringing my problems with Jim into your home and your kitchen. Maybe I should just leave," Blair said as he put down the dish towel. Eddie realized Blair was far to sensitive and caring, he was not going to cause any strife within her household when he was a guest.
"No, Blair," Eddie said as she wiped her own hands on her towel and grabbed the shorter man by the shoulders and pushed him into the chair beside the sink. "Simon would kill me, and Darryl would never talk to me again. I'm sorry if I came on a bit strong. I know this is none of my business; I'm just an old busybody. You know us old people," Eddie said pathetically and saw the look of mortification cross the kid's face. Eddie knew how to play every role, pathetic old lady, daffy old woman, witty wise woman, and pesky budinski. Sandburg looked liked a dilettante where obfuscations and lies were concerned and Eddie Banks.God, I'm good, she thought to herself, Simon was right about these two, they just need a little guidance and just the right push.
"No, please, Eddie, you're great. Darryl and Simon are lucky to have an aunt like you. I wish I had someone, a grandmother, or aunt...I'm sorry, what I mean is you're right and I thank you for the interest. I guess I've kind of backed myself into a corner. I know you're right. I've tried several times to apologize to Jim, but I let my anger and hurt surface again and I back down."
"It's so easy, son, to let these imagined or real hurts linger. If you don't apologize soon, you keep putting it off, then you'll start justifying the hurt, and before you know it you'll be blowing it way out of proportion. Just do it. You'll feel a lot better, and I bet Jim's headaches will disappear."
Then the older woman pulled Blair up and out of the chair and embraced him in one of her bone-crunching hugs. When Blair came out of it, ruffled and breathless, they both let out a laugh. An alliance had been formed, and Blair knew he had a friend. He was just going to have to talk to Jim and make everything right again.
It is so nice to have history. To be able to lay claim to traditions and family memories and make the statement of 'this is from whence I came.' We know who we are by the comfort of living in our own souls, but we realize what we could have been by the tribe whose membership professes the right to us. We all have roots. Some are deeper in the ground, others are just buried beneath the surface like uprooted trees in a storm.