Feedback: jessriley80@yahoo.com.au

A PART OF ME

Jess Riley

Damn, there it was again. Soft, barely audible, but nevertheless, relentless and as annoying as hell. Whoever it was knocking on the door at this ungodly hour was about to feel the ire of the Ellison temper. After spending the last thirty-six hours on his feet, Ellison was tired, no, rephrase that, he was dead tired, and the idiot on the other side of the door was about to bear the brunt of his exhaustion. Angrily heaving himself out of bed, he stomped down the stairs, his fists clenched with not only pent up frustration, but shear exhaustion. Not bothering to look through the peephole, he flung the door open and shouted, "Do you have any damned idea of what time it is?" Surprised at the lack of an intruder on the other side, Ellison looked around and then finally down. Standing at his feet and staring up at him with big blue eyes brimming with tears was a young boy. The poor little tyke couldn't have been more than three and Ellison had just let rip with an anger that would have a grown man taking a step backward. But to his credit, the kid held his ground. Guilt quickly replaced his earlier feelings and Jim knelt down, his concern for the child now dissipating his anger "Hey there," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I shouted. Are you lost, buddy?"

The boy just shook his head, the movement causing the well of tears to slide freely down his rosy cheeks.

"Hey, hey, don't cry," Ellison comforted, awkwardly. "My name's Jim, what's yours?"

"Blair." The name was blurted out through a choking of sobs.

"Where's your mother Blair?" Jim reached out and brushed away some of the tears that were now falling freely to the floor. "Do you live in this building?"

"Mama said to give you this." Blair's arm came up to wipe at his nose before presenting a piece of paper that was scrunched up tightly in his grubby little hand.

Taking the note that was thrust in front of his face, Jim smoothed out the paper and began to read.

Jim, this is Blair. Your son. I can't look after him at the moment, it's too much. I have a life to lead and I can't do that with Blair. I've had him for three years and now it's your turn. I need some time to get myself together. I need to concentrate on just me for a while and get my own life in order. I'm in a relationship with a man who I depend on, and to be honest, he and Blair don't see eye to eye. I need a little time to make this work and have decided that it's time you took responsibility for your mistake. Please don't try and find me. I'll be in touch when I feel the time is right.

Naomi Sandburg.

"What?" Ellison stared at Blair in disbelief. "My son?" He shook his head. "No, no way I have a son."

"Banks!" A voice just as tired and exhausted as Ellison's snapped across the phone line.

"Simon, it's Jim."

"For Christ sakes, Jim. Do you have any idea what time it is, or when I last slept, for that matter?"

"I know Simon and I'm sorry that I woke you, but I need to talk to you."

"Ellison, this better be important," Simon warned.

"Simon, a kid has just appeared at my door with a note that says he's my son."

"Jim," Simon reasoned impatiently, "we both know that you don't have a son, so send the prankster on his way, go back upstairs, down some sleeping pills and do us all a favour and get some sleep."

"Simon, this is no joke. I answered the door not five minutes ago and there's this kid standing there," he began, looking over at Blair who was now sitting on the sofa clutching a small backpack like his life depended on it. "And anyway, he's got this note from a woman I once knew. A Naomi Sandburg."

"Sandburg? I don't ever recall you telling me about a Naomi Sandburg."

"That's because I never gave her a second thought myself," Jim answered. "I met her about four years ago in a bar in Las Vegas."

"Ah, city of one night stands."

"Exactly. And between that and the scotch, I wasn't exactly thinking with my brain, if you know what I mean."

"Jim, just because you had a quick liaison with a strange women in a strange town doesn't automatically get your name listed on this kid's birth certificate. The kid could be anyone's."

"Yeah, I know, but there's still a chance he could be mine."

"Yeah," Simon agreed tiredly. "Look, give me a minute to make a few calls to see if there's been any reports of any recent missing kids and then I'll drop over. Do you want me to call Family Services to arrange for someone to pick him up?"

"No!" Jim said, a little too forcefully. "I mean, no, not just yet. I need some time to get my head around this, and besides, the poor little guy's frightened enough as it is."

"Alright, I'll see you soon."

Placing the phone back on the cradle, Jim carefully approached Blair. "Hey there, Chief," he said, talking a seat beside the frightened little boy. "Are you hungry?"

"No," Blair sobbed out, wiping his snotty nose on his sleeve.

Jim grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table, and cleaned up the boy's sleeve, as well as his face.

"I want my Mama," Blair cried out, burying his face in the backpack he was clutching.

Lifting Blair into his lap, Jim wrapped his arms around the shaking little body, drawing the kid in toward his chest. "I know you do, kiddo," he soothed. "It's gonna be alright. We'll find her. I promise."

Jim adjusted Blair's head to stop it rolling off his shoulder as he eased himself off the sofa to answer the door. Having literally cried himself to sleep, Blair was now resting fitfully in his arms. "Simon, thanks for coming," he said quietly, gesturing Banks into the loft.

Simon just nodded, studying the sleeping kid in Jim's arms. "Have you been able to get any information out of him?"

"He's three, Simon. Exactly how much information do you expect me to get?" Jim answered sarcastically.

"I guess you don't know much about kids, Ellison. Some three-year-olds can be very informative. In fact sometimes too informative," he muttered, remembering some of the embarrassing information his own son had divulged when he was three.

"All I've managed to find out is basically what was in the note." Jim handed it over. "He's pretty tired and upset, and I thought I should try and settle him down and get him used to me before I go asking him a whole bunch of questions."

Simon picked up the tattered and well-used backpack that was on the sofa. "Is this his?"

"Yeah." Jim unconsciously began to pat Blair's back as he started to stir.

Dumping the contents of the backpack onto the sofa, Banks began to sort through the pile. "Well, there doesn't appear to be anything here that'll shed any light on where he came from." He picked up a few of the items. "Just a few drawings, an old book, a bear -- well-loved, by the looks of it -- and a few threadbare clothes which, by the smell of them, could do with a run through the washing machine." He stuffed the items back into the backpack. "Actually, the kid's not exactly all that clean either," he added, gently touching one of Blair's filthy hands.

"I know. I don't think he's had a bath in a while and I also think he's coming down with a cold."

"Well, Jim, what do you want to do?" Simon asked. "Missing persons doesn't have any reports of missing children fitting Blair's description, and given the note he had, I'd say this is a case of the kid being dumped."

"No," Jim snapped. Simon's unspoken words and his train of thought suddenly became an uneasy threat to the detective. "He's not going to become another statistic of Child Services, Simon. Not while there's even a scant chance that he could be my son." Jim tightened his grip on Blair. "Even if we take the note at face value, then his mother has left him in my care and technically while I have her permission, I intend to keep him with me until we can get to the bottom of this."

"Alright then." Banks backed off. "But the first thing we need to do is get him cleaned up." He headed toward the bathroom. "After he's clean, I'll run down to the mall and pick him up a few things to wear." The faucets squeaked on and Simon poked his head out the bathroom door. "And then you can make me breakfast."

"Sounds fair." Jim smiled half heartedly, before turning his attention back to Blair. "Hey Chief, time to wake up," he said, gently coaxing the boy awake.

Blair blinked several times before tired eyes managed to will themselves to stay open.

Looking into the child's confused and somewhat dazed blue eyes, Jim continued, "Remember me? I know you must be hungry, but I thought it might be a good idea to have a bit of a cleanup before breakfast." Jim kept talking as he carried Blair to the bathroom. "Do you like pancakes?" he asked.

Blair's eyes immediately latched on to Simon and his survival instinct kicked into gear the moment he spotted the strange man standing in the room.

"Hey, Munchkin," Jim comforted, sensing Blair's anxiety. "This is my friend Simon. He's a police captain and he's going to help us find your mom."

"Pleased to meet you Blair," Simon said, extending his hand.

With one hand wound tightly around the fabric of Jim's robe, Blair looked at the detective for reassurance.

"It's okay," Jim assured gently.

Reaching out, Blair cautiously shook Simon's hand.

"Okay Chief, how about that bath?" Jim said lightly. He placed Blair on the floor beside the tub and set about removing his clothes. Shoes and socks, followed by a sweater and shirt were stripped off without incident, but as Ellison reached for Blair's jeans, the child's demeanour quickly changed.

"No," Blair made a sudden move, backing himself up into a corner, as far away from Jim and Simon as he could get in the small room.

Exchanging worried glances, Simon knelt down so he was eye level with the child. "It's okay, Blair. Jim's not going to hurt you."

Blair remained were he was, backed up against the wall with his hand clutched tightly around the top of his jeans. Trying a different tack, Simon got to his feet. "Hey, I tell you what," he said. "You look like you're a big boy. How about Jim and I leave the room while you undress yourself and hop into the tub? How does that sound?"

Despite eyeing both men warily, Blair seemed to be considering Simon's suggestion. He glanced over at the bath full of bubbles before turning his attention back toward the two men. "No looking," he stated.

Jim got to his feet and stood beside Simon. "No looking. We promise, Chief." Not comfortable with leaving a three year old to take a bath completely by himself, Jim added. "You just yell out as soon as you're in the tub and I'll come back in to make sure you're okay."

Blair nodded his permission at the suggestion, but waited until both men had left the room before stripping off his jeans.

Once outside the door, Ellison turned to face Banks, running his hand through his short-cropped hair. "You know, I know absolutely nothing about kids, but that reaction wasn't normal, was it?"

"Not completely," Simon rubbed his hand over his tired face. "I think you should give him a few minutes to get settled before you go back in."

"And then what?"

"Then just try and be natural. Talk to him and make him feel as comfortable as possible, but whatever you do, don't touch him."

"Simon, how on earth am I going to get him clean if I don't touch him? You've seen how filthy he is."

"Give him a soapy washcloth and let him clean himself. If he can't manage, make sure you ask him if you can help before you take over." Simon glanced toward the bathroom. "His reaction could have been nothing more than fright, but it could also be something both you and I are not trained to handle."

"You think he's been abused?" Jim was praying that Simon's answer would be no, but his gut told a different tale.

Simon slapped Jim gently on the shoulder. "Look, I'm going to see if I can find a store open and buy him some clothes. You think you can handle the bath by yourself?"

"Yeah," Jim answered reluctantly.

"Just keep talking to him, Jim, and keep reassuring him that nothing's going to happen to him." Simon grabbed his keys and pulled open the front door. "I'll be as quick as I can."

Stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his robe, Jim decided that a quick change of clothes would be prudent. Not knowing why exactly, he decided to keep following his gut, figuring that the more layers he had on, the more comfortable Blair would feel. "Hey, Chief, you okay for a few seconds?" he called out.

"Ah, ha," Blair answered quietly.

Taking the stairs to his bedroom, two at a time, Jim quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt. Not bothering with socks or shoes, he headed back down the stairs, making sure he announced to Blair his intention to come into the bathroom before he entered.

Blair tracked his movements to the side of the tub, but just as Simon suggested, Jim engaged the child in conversation and it didn't take all that long before Blair began to relax in his presence. "You like the bubbles?" Jim asked, watching Blair squeeze and squash them between his little fingers.

"Ah, ha," the youngster answered. "I not never have a baf with bubbles, 'afore."

"Why not?" Jim asked. He reached over Blair's head to pluck the washcloth off the tap.

Blair flinched slightly, tracking every one of Jim's movements with extreme interest and caution.

"I thought all little kids have bubble baths," Jim replied casually, not giving in to the screaming feeling that this child had been the victim of a dark childhood.

Blair shrugged his shoulders. "Tom sayed that bubbles not let you see," he answered quietly.

"Who's Tom?" Jim asked, but he didn't receive an answer to his question. It was like Blair had switched into complete avoidance mode and as he studied the child, he was quite amazed at how Blair so aptly and skilfully managed to change the subject. But as Blair clambered to his feet to retrieve the rubber duck that had floated down the other end of the tub, Jim was given his answer. Littering the child's buttock and upper legs were a trail of faded bruises and marks.

Tom's name had just become etched in Ellison's psyche.

By the time Simon returned, Jim had Blair squeaky clean and wrapped up snugly in a large, fluffy towel. Sitting on the countertop, totally immersed in stirring the batch of pancake batter, Blair barely even noticed Simon's return.

"How did it go?" Simon asked, putting the parcels on the table.

"Good." Jim smiled and ruffled Blair's wet curls before swinging him into his arms. "Why don't we go and see what Simon's bought, Munchkin?"

Unpacking one of the parcels, Simon held up a shirt and a pair of pants for Blair to see. "They new!" Blair exclaimed, accepting the brightly coloured T-shirt from Simon. He studied it for a moment before handing it back. "Mama said I not need new clothes. I grows to quick," he said. "Just like a weed."

Jim snagged the rest of the parcels from the table and sat down on the living room floor, positioning Blair on his lap. "Well I'll tell you what, little weed," he teased. "Why don't we just try these on for the moment while I wash your other clothes? Simon went all the way to the store to buy these especially for you, and we wouldn't want to hurt his feelings, would we?"

"Okay," Blair relented, after a moment's thought. He clambered to his feet and steadied himself, ready to step into the underpants that Jim was now holding out. Once the underwear was up over his hips, he dropped the towel and held up his arms for Jim to slip the shirt on.

With Blair fully dressed, Jim got to his feet, taking the youngster with him. "Now, how about some breakfast?" he growled, throwing Blair playfully over his shoulder. "I'm as hungry as a bear."

Giggling as he was set back down on the countertop, Blair grinned a toothy smile. "Me too," he bounced. "I as hungwy as a beauh as well."

Jim tickled a pair of sock-clad feet that were dangling over the countertop. "You're too little to be a bear."

"No I not," Blair laughed, pulling his feet away. "I big enough to be 'sponsible. I can get my own bweakfast," he said with a measure of pride.

"Wow, that is responsible," Jim threw a look in Simon's direction. "I bet not many three-years-olds can do that?"

"Nope," Blair agreed, shaking his head from side to side. "I can get my own dinnuh too."

"Do you get your own dinner a lot Blair?" Simon asked, coming into the kitchen.

"Ah-ha," Blair answered as though it was nothing special. "Sometimes Mama gets weal tired and goes to sleep. I don't tell Tom I hungwy 'cause he gets mad if he gets 'sturbed."

Before Simon could ask another question, Jim bellowed out. "Who wants the first pancake?" When he didn't receive an answer from Blair, he wondered if the child was afraid he would be angry with him for being hungry. Quick to ward off any doubts or uncertainties Blair may have been feeling, he lifted him up and threw him back over his shoulder. "I think this hungry bear needs two pancakes," he said, plonking Blair down on a kitchen chair.

It didn't take long for Blair to once again start feeling more at ease around the two men and soon the room was filled with idle chatter about whatever was on the youngster's mind. Talk about his mother and the man Jim assumed was Naomi's boyfriend was conspicuously glossed over in the conversation and both Jim and Simon were astute enough to pick up on the signals that Blair was giving out.

Off limit subjects for the moment would remain off limits, at least until Jim was able to gain more of the child's trust, or until the department turned up some usable information on Naomi Sandburg and her allegedly abusive boyfriend.

With breakfast over and Blair quietly sitting on the sofa watching Sesame Street, Jim stacked the dishes into the dishwasher, his thoughts not drifting far from Blair, and his anger unable to move past recreating scenarios of possible abuse that the child had suffered. "Did you see how hungry he was?" he said, angrily throwing the frying pan into the bottom rack.

Simon laid a gentle hand on Jim's shoulder and eased him away from the sink. "It doesn't appear that he's had a decent meal in a while. He looks a little on the underweight side." He lowered his voice and took over stacking the dishes. "How'd it go after I left?"

Jim shrugged. "Not too bad, actually. I went back into the bathroom and let him be the boss. We talked for a while and once he felt a little more comfortable with me, he let me help him wash his hair."

"Did he let you towel him dry?"

"No, he said he could do that by himself, and wouldn't get out of the bath until I left the room."

"Well he's obviously got something to hide," Simon suggested. "Why did you stop me from asking him any more questions?"

"Because I'm positive he's been abused." Jim pressed his hand against his temple to try and ward off the tension headache he could feel building. "When he was in the tub, the duck floated down to the other end and Blair stood up to retrieve it. He had bruises all over his backside, Simon. Fingertip size bruises."

"Did you ask him about them?" Simon pressed.

Ellison shook his head. "No. I held out my hand to steady him and as soon as he realised I was looking at him he sat down right away and he shut up like a clam. It wasn't the time or the place."

"In the note he gave you, didn't Naomi say that her new boyfriend and Blair weren't seeing eye to eye?"

"Yeah, and I tell you what. If this Tom guy is responsible for those bruises, the bastard and I won't exactly be seeing eye to eye."

"Just remember that you're a cop first, and unfortunately, not being able to beat the shit out of scum like this guy comes with the territory."

Yeah but being a father gives me every right. The thought came to Ellison so abruptly and clearly that he was slightly taken back by the intensity of it. His eyes drifted over to Blair and he had to resist the urge to go over to the sofa and gather the youngster up in a protective hold.

"Jim, you okay?" Banks asked, noticing the faraway look in Ellison's eyes.

Jim snapped out of his reverie. "Just tired."

"Look, I don't think there is anything more either of us can do until we hear some news. I'm going to drop by the station and put a fire under them about getting hold of Ms. Sandburg's records and then I'm going home to get some sleep." He squeezed Jim's shoulder. "Are you sure you don't want me to arrange foster care for Blair? He might be better off in experienced hands."

"He stays with me," The look on Jim's face was one that Simon had become well accustom to over the years. "If Blair is my son, then there is no way in hell I'm putting him in foster care."

"And if he isn't?"

"If he isn't then I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. But either way he stays here with me until we find out exactly what's been going on."

"Okay, subject's closed," Simon conceded. "Why don't you try and get some rest, if you can because I'm still going to need you to come into the station this afternoon and finish up those reports. I'm sorry Jim," Simon apologised, "But that can't be postponed."

"I know." Jim handed Banks his coat. "Thanks for coming by Simon. I really appreciate the support."

"Any time, my friend." Simon pulled open the door, but turned to face the detective before he left. "Jim, just one question. What the hell are you doing with a rubber duck?"

"It goes nicely with the aromatherapy lantern and bath salts," Ellison replied seriously.

Closing the door in Simon's face and leaving the police captain with a perplexed look, Jim couldn't help but smirk. Simon wasn't just his boss; he'd become a good friend and a friend Jim knew he could count on. If Blair did turn out to be his son, he knew he was going to need all the friends he could get.

Traipsing back over to the sofa, Jim wearily sat down and watched Blair for a few minutes. He studied the child's features, trying to determine whether or not even an inkling of resemblance existed. Big, brilliant blue eyes, which long black eyelashes accentuated and framed, came in a close second to the clear, fair skin and rosy cheeks of Blair's face. Add to that one button nose and a mop of curly hair, and you had the recipe for only one thing -- a pretty cute kid. A cute kid that looked like him? He wasn't so certain, but if memory served correctly, an Aunt a few lines back on his father's side had the same features. Giving up his analysis on the child and being content to simply be in his company, Jim smiled as Blair burst into a round of giggles at Big Bird and his antics. "This a good, show, Chief?" he asked. He was pleasantly surprised when Blair moved closer and lazily lounged across his lap.

"It's funny... that buhd is silly... how come he's so big?" Blair asked, pulling slightly at his ear.

"I guess he eats all his pancakes," Jim replied, playfully ruffling Blair's hair.

"Buhds don't eat pancakes." Blair's face became serious with concentration.

"Well, what do they eat?" Jim asked, leaning forward and grabbing another tissue to wipe Blair's nose.

"They eat seeds and fwuit. I 'membuh seeing the birds in the park eat fwuit."

"Do you go to the park a lot, Chief?"

"Ah-ha." Blair tugged on his ear again. "Mama takes me when I being noisy. I have to be quiet when Tom comes home, but sometime I fohget. I and Mama go out when I fohget, 'cause if we don't, Tom gets mad at both of us."

"Does Tom ever get so mad that he sometimes hits you?" asked Jim gently.

Avoiding the question completely, Blair said, "My name's Blair, silly, not Chief. I 'membuh you name. It's Jim!" he announced, confidently.

"That's right," Jim leaned back on the cushion, taking Blair with him. "And your name's Blair, but do you mind if I call you Chief sometimes?"

"I not think so," Blair shrugged, before turning his attention back toward the television as Big Bird once again caught his eye.

Jim closed his eyes and listened to the quiet breathing of the boy on his lap. The gentle, steady breaths soon washed over his senses and it wasn't long before he felt himself drifting off to sleep. He vaguely felt Blair snuggle closer into his chest and without even consciously doing so, felt his arms come up and wrap around the little body.

Ellison now felt strangely whole. He felt as if he was a man who was now almost complete.

Abruptly awakened by the ringing of the phone, Jim scrubbed at his still exhausted eyes before gently moving Blair, who was sound asleep against his chest. "Ellison," he said, a little groggily, as he snatched up the phone.

"Hey, Jim, I'm sorry to wake you and I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but you're gonna have to come in right away. There's a problem with some of the evidence and the DA's having a hissy fit from hell. I need you to finish off the reports as of yesterday."

"What'll I do with Blair?" Jim already knew the answer, because aside from not wanting to let the kid out his sight, he had no one he trusted who could mind the youngster.

"You're just gonna have to bring him in with you. You can say that you're minding your cousin's kid."

"I'm not ashamed of him, Simon. I was more worried about taking him into a busy police station. I think he's been through enough for one day."

"I'm sorry Jim, but you don't have a choice. I'll ask Rhonda to keep an eye on him, okay?"

"I'll be there shortly," Ellison replied reluctantly, before he hung up the phone.

"Hey, Squirt." Simon's smile was wide, attempting to make Blair feel at ease. "Have you had a good morning?"

Blair just nodded, staying very close to Jim's side.

"Jim, I'm sorry I had to drag you in like this, but the DA's saying the arrest wasn't exactly kosher and she's out for blood." He handed Ellison a file. "And you, detective, are first in line to make that donation."

"Peachy," Ellison replied sarcastically. He flipped briefly through the file. "Guess the sooner I get started, the sooner Blair and I can go home." He placed Blair's backpack on his desk. "Simon, I was hoping to get some time off, effectively starting as soon as I get the DA off our backs."

Simon glanced at Blair. Ellison might be his best detective, but with his mind elsewhere, he could very easily turn into another department statistic. "Take as much time as you need," he said. Lowering his voice he asked. "Have you thought about what you're going to do?"

"Well, first I think it's important to find out whether or not I'm Blair's father."

"And if you are?"

"If I am, then I go for custody."

"Custody!" Simon exclaimed, making Blair jump. "Don't you think you're being just a little bit premature?"

"Given the circumstances, I think I'm doing the only thing I can do," Jim hissed back.

"Rhonda, could you look after Blair for a minute while Detective Ellison and I go into my office?"

"Certainly Captain," Simon's secretary had been watching the display with interest and she immediately rounded her desk to greet Blair.

"Chief, this if Rhonda. You think you could stay with her for a little while? Maybe you could draw her a picture," Jim encouraged.

"Ahre you going away?" Blair's sad eyes left Jim to study yet another stranger he had to stay with.

Kneeling down to Blair's eye-level, Jim cupped the youngster cheek. "No buddy, I'm just going into Simon's office and I'll be right behind that door." He released his grasp. "I won't be long. I promise."

"Okay." Blair demeanour changed immediately and once again Jim could see the boy withdrawing into himself. But despite the disappointment shining from his eyes, Blair didn't question him any further or put up a fuss. He simply took Rhonda's hand and followed her to her desk.

"I won't be long," Jim promised again.

This time Blair didn't even look at him, leaving Jim feeling like he'd just tossed a puppy out the back door to spend the night in the rain.

"Well?" Hard pressed to draw Ellison's attention away from Blair, Simon abruptly closed the door, effectively shutting off any view of the kid.

"Well what?"

"Don't give me that. You know perfectly well what I mean. What are you planning on doing if, one, Blair is your kid, and two, if he turns out not to be." Simon backed off his tone. "Jim, I know that you've become attached to him, but the very real possibility of Blair being your son isn't all that likely."

"I see the odds as fifty-fifty." Jim lowered himself onto the sofa in the corner of the office and tried to get his head around his thoughts. "The first thing I'm going to do is to take a DNA test to determine whether or not I'm Blair's father. I've made an appointment with Gillian Francis tomorrow and explained the situation. She's going to give Blair the once over as well."

"And if the test results come back positive, don't you think the custody issue might be rushing things a bit? I mean, you've known the kid for less than half a day and already you're planning on him living with you. Hell, Jim, you don't even know if the kid wants to live with you. Maybe his mother is just in a bad situation that she can't get herself out of."

"Simon I realise that it may be sudden, but it's not a rash decision and realistically, what other choice do I possibly have? I told you what I saw, and whether or not Naomi Sandburg has got herself into a bad deal, she still stood by and let some bastard boyfriend, who she choose over her own son by the way, beat the crap outta him. Any way you wanna spin it, she's not exactly 'Mom of the Year' material."

"You have no actual proof that Blair has been abused, Jim."

"Yeah, well, that's why Dr. Francis is going to take a look at him. He didn't get those bruises by being clumsy, Simon."

"Are you sure you're ready to be a dad, Jim?"

"No, no I'm not, but if he is my son, then there's no way I'm letting a child of mine go back to that kind of life."

"And if he's not your son?"

"I'm still not going to let him go back to that kind of life, Simon. If he's not my son, then I'll keep him with me, just as his mother has asked, until something else can be figured out.

"Jim, you're a single man. Adoption or putting in an application to act as a foster care parent is pretty pie in the sky."

"It'll work out," Ellison said, quietly. "Don't ask me why, but I just know it'll all work out."

"He's really grown on you, hasn't he?"

"Yeah he has. Blair being with me just feels right. Kinda like it was always meant to be, but I just never knew it."

Simon didn't really understand Jim's standpoint, but he did understand how he'd feel if his own son was in the same predicament as Blair. "How about I drop around tonight and we can talk some more. By that time I should have some more information on Blair's mother and hopefully the guy she's living with." Simon gestured toward the door. "But first I want you out there finishing those reports and then I want you hightailing down to the DA's office. I think her Royal Highness could do with a good dose of the Ellison charm."

Jim smiled, getting to his feet. "Prince Charming, that's me in a nutshell," he quipped. Pulling open the door he immediately sought out Blair. "Thanks, Simon," he said for the second time that day.

"Get outta here Ellison before you turn my office into a blubbering scene from The Bold and the Beautiful."

"Sure thing, Ridge," Jim winked.

"Out," Banks growled. Leaning back in his chair he couldn't help but feel that Jim was setting himself up to take a mighty fall. But he also knew that if he did fall, he would be right by his side, helping to pick up the shattered pieces. Ellison was more than just his detective and the man's friendship was one Simon valued above all others.

Jim had explained to Blair that he had to stay with Rhonda for just a little while longer while he finished up some work, and while Blair seemed to understand, Jim didn't miss the continual glances Blair threw in his direction. Typing out the last paragraph and pressing 'print', Jim scuffed his chair back and crossed the short distance to the secretary's desk. "Thanks for keeping an eye on him, Rhonda."

"It's been my pleasure," she said, smiling at Blair. "And look at these wonderful pictures I have to brighten up the place." She passed over Blair's artwork for Jim to see. "And he's been teaching me how to count."

It had been near impossible for Jim, as well as the rest of the Major Crime unit, to miss that detail, but not one person had complained about Blair's voice singing out across the office. "Hey, that's great, Munchkin. How many can you count up to?"

"I can count weal high," Blair said, hopping off the chair that had been pushed up beside Rhonda. "Tom says I stupid, but I can count to fifty," he said proudly.

"Fifty! Wow that is high," Jim enthused. "I bet you're the smartest little boy I've ever met," he continued, determined to show Blair just how special he was.

"Weally?" Blair asked, with a look of surprise on his face.

"Really," Jim smiled. "Now, why don't you say good-bye to Rhonda, and we'll hit the track, Jack."

"Thank you fo' looking afteh me," Blair said, politely.

Rhonda drew Blair into a hug. "You're welcome, sweetheart, and I hope you come back to visit us soon."

Drawing back, Blair took hold of Jim's extended hand. "I think she likes me," he whispered.

"I think you might be right, Romeo," Jim laughed.

As they walked toward the elevator, the whole office couldn't help but hear Blair's next comment. "Mama says that when people get old they sometimes forgetted people's names." Blair stopped and looked up at Jim, squeezing his hand. "It not your fault," he said gently.

Jim ignored the smirks from his fellow officers and swung Blair into his arms. "Come on, Junior. Let's get outta here before you bring the house completely down."

Blair wrapped his arms around Jim's neck, his concern still genuine. "I will drawed you a name badge." He pressed his lips against Jim's ear. "Dat way you not forget."

As the elevator dinged at the seventh floor, Jim rolled his eyes. Simon was right. Three year olds could be very informative.

Ellison was livid, as he paced back and forth across the front of the reception desk. "How much longer do I have to wait?" he demanded impatiently.

"Veronica." The voice across the intercom was cool, calm and almost calculating. "Would you please show Detective Ellison in?"

"About damn time," Jim mumbled. Trying in vain to soften his attitude, he smiled, almost painfully, at the receptionist. "Do you think you could keep an eye on Blair for me?" he asked.

The young woman glanced at Blair. The kid's nose had been stuck in a picture book since he'd arrived and seemed to be a lot less trouble than the ranting detective. "Sure," she said, with an aloof shrug of her shoulders.

"Chief!" Jim ruffled Blair's hair to get his attention. "I'm just going into the office right there," he said, pointing toward the closed door. "Miss Henderson is going to keep an eye on you while I'm gone, but I'll try to be as quick as I can. You think you're going to be alright out here?"

"Ah-ha," Blair yawned as he turned over the page. He was getting sleepy and all he really wanted to do was to go back to Jim's house so he could lie on the sofa and watch the show with the big bird. But if Jim wanted him to wait for him, then he'd wait. "I will be good," he promised.

"That's my boy." Jim passed the receptionist, giving her one last, not quite so sure glance. "If he needs me, just interrupt us."

"Sure," she said again, her voice giving away her indifference to children.

As the door closed behind the detective, the young woman gave the kid another disinterested glance. She had thirty minutes before quitting time and had no intention of hanging around after hours. If the meeting were still in progress, she'd just tell the kid to stay put. He seemed smart enough to understand orders and she had a date.

Going back to her work, the receptionist dismissed Blair from her mind and from her responsibility.

Blair had been sitting on the hard chair for what seemed like hours, and was now starting to feel uneasy. Miss Henderson had left him alone, telling him not to move, and there was lots of shouting coming from behind the door. Jim didn't seem cross when he left him, but maybe the other person in the room had made him mad at him. He tried to be good and as quiet as possible, but he knew from experience that sometimes people, especially men, just got mad for no good reason. Hesitant at disobeying, but letting his past memories be his guide, Blair hopped down off the chair. He grabbed his book and his backpack and looked around for somewhere safer to sit. Somewhere that was more out of the way. Spotting a large potted plant in the corner, he decided to take refuge behind its leafy foliage. It looked safe over there, and maybe if he just sat where no one could see him, then they'd forget about him, and if they forgot about him, then they wouldn't get mad at him.

Sitting down on the hard, tiled floor, Blair drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. If they couldn't see him, they couldn't hurt him. It was a concept he's become well accustomed to.

Ellison spat out a few more choice words before storming out of the office and slamming the door with such a force it shook on its hinges. "What a complete waste of fucking time," he muttered, angrily. There was nothing wrong with the arrest procedure and all the evidence gathered would be admissible in court. The only problem was one overbearing, arrogant and stubborn DA, who insisted on going over everything ten times with a fine-toothed comb. God, that woman rubbed him the wrong way, and he was sure that she loved every minute of it. The sooner I get out of here the better, he thought as he hurried to the elevator, stabbing savagely at the button.

The elevator hit the first floor and Ellison hit the street, without a second thought for the child he'd left behind.

Wiping away the tears that trickled down his cheeks, Blair gave up trying to hide his distress. Jim was mad at him. He had left him behind, just like his mom did and he didn't know what to do. Miss Henderson had already left and the nasty lady behind the door was now turning off the lights and also leaving. He pulled the only true friend he had out of his backpack and curled himself up into a tight ball. The tears continued to flow. He couldn't help it. He was trying to be a man, a man like Tom told him to be, but he was scared and once again he was all alone. His mama had said that Jim was his daddy and that daddies loved their little boys, but maybe Mama was lying to him again. Maybe Jim wasn't his daddy and was just another Tom.

With no more tears left to shed, Blair nestled his head into the folds of his backpack and prepared himself for another night where the shadows on the walls were his only company. But sometimes, for a boy like Blair, the shadow people were a hell of a lot better than the monsters which came to life when the lights flicked on.

"Ellison." Jim flung open his cellphone, the hustle of the late afternoon traffic not doing a lot to soothe his frayed temper.

"Jim, it's Simon." Bank's waited for a few seconds for a greeting that never came. "So I'm guessing the DA gave you a run for you're money?"

"God, that woman's aggravating," Ellison ground out.

"And?" Simon pushed.

"And, it's all been sorted out in a calm, professional way."

"I'll bet," There was a slight pause on the line. "Hey, Jim, I got information on Blair and I'd like to drop it over tonight, if you're still up to it. I think it may be important."

"What've you got?"

"I'd rather not do this over the phone. Are you going straight home?"

"Yeah, we should be there in about twenty minutes." The 'we' in Jim's sentence hit him like a freight train slamming, full force into his chest. "Shit Simon... I left him behind!"

"What?"

"Blair. I left Blair at the DA's office."

"What do you mean you left Blair at the DA's?" Simon's voice edged with panic. "How on god's green earth did you manage to leave a three year old behind?"

"Because I'm a fucking idiot, that's how." Jim answer angrily.

Simon steadied his voice, trying to calm not only his own growing anxiety, but also Jim's. "Jim, just calm down. How far away are you?"

"Only a few minutes," Shifting gears, Jim swung the truck around and tore across the median strip, barely missing oncoming traffic as he merged into the lane. "Simon, I'll call you back." Throwing his cell phone down on the passenger seat, he floored the gas pedal and pushed the truck to its limits. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he berated silently. How could you be such a plain faced moron, Ellison? He slammed the palm of his hand down on the steering wheel. Some father. It was a thought that was now giving him very definite second thoughts.

The door was no match for Ellison and it split away from the lock with only a single kick. But still, it offered no release from the pain that now filled him to his very core. Blair was nowhere to be seen in the outer office or in the inner sanctum of the DA's lair. The little boy that only hours before he'd made a promise to care for, was gone.

If Jim's mind were clear then he would have assessed the situation like he'd assess every scene of a crime, but his mind wasn't clear. It was full of a montage of images that had become so powerful he almost felt as if he were being blinded by intensity. Then, without warning, he fell to his knees and toppled to the floor.

The Sentinel was awakening, but the man was lost.

Cautiously and carefully Blair crawled slowly out of his hiding place, considering his next move. The door, now battered and broken, offered the perfect escape route from not only the room, but also from Jim's temper. Taking a few small, tentative steps toward the corridor he stopped, unable to resist the lure to go to Jim's side. "Jim," he whispered so very softly.

Waiting for an answer that never came, Blair decided to creep around Jim's prone body so he could see his face. Jim certainly didn't look mad anymore; in fact, Jim looked very peaceful and not angry at all. "Jim," he tried again, this time touching Ellison's shoulder very lightly. "I sowwy I was naughty. I not mean to be bad." Blair pushed himself to try and remember what it was he'd done that made Jim so angry. He thought he'd done exactly as he'd been told, but maybe he was being stupid again, just like Tom always said he was.

Feeling a horrible remorse for an action that still mystified him, Blair knelt down and touched Jim's cheek. "Please talk to me," he pleaded, rubbing a little harder to try and get Jim's attention. But Jim remained quiet and unresponsive.

"Maybe you are tired and you need a nap." Blair decided that if Jim did need to have a little sleep, then he'd lay down next to him so he wouldn't be all alone. "I will tell you a bedtime stoh-wy, if you like?" he said. "I 'membuh a vewy good one, I don't need my book to telled it."

As Blair chatted away and retold a story he'd read over and over in near perfect detail, the sentinel still remained unaware of his guide's presence. He was, however, acutely aware of the presence of another.

"Incacha!"

"It is nice to see you once again, my friend."

Baffled and confused and positive he was in the middle of some weird and wonderful dream, Ellison looked around "It'd be nicer and make a whole lot more sense if we were back in Peru." He was now certain he was dreaming, because there was absolutely nothing beneath his feet. "You know, some place with a solid land mass," he added.

"You've been here before, Enqueri, and you will soon become reacquainted."

Ellison looked around again in an effort to acquaint himself with anything that looked vaguely familiar. But there was nothing. In fact 'nothing' seemed to be the decorating style of the whole place, because nothing was basically all he saw.

"You care to tell me exactly where I am? Longitude and latitude would be kinda nice, if you have those as well." he said, sarcastically.

"You are on the path to your destiny, Enqueri."

"Okay, so no coordinates then," Jim drew out, still trying to work out what was going on. "So if I pinch myself, will you go away?"

"Do you remember the legend of the Sentinel, Enqueri? I told it to you many times."

"I remember you trying to convince me that that's what I was."

"It is and always has been your destiny, my friend, and the time has now come to start to take your place among the sentinels."

"Incacha, I told you this years ago and I'll tell you again. I'm not a sentinel. A well trained solider, yes, but a sentinel, no."

"And what will you tell me about the child, Enqueri?"

"What am I meant to tell you?"

"You must let your head believe what your heart tells you."

"My heart tells me he's my son." It was a confession that came straight out of the blue and took Jim by surprise.

"He is," Incacha nodded. "And he is also the key to your survival, as you are to his. Your instinct to love and protect him will grow stronger every day, and you must follow these with your heart and not your head. The child has been through much for someone so young, and will not survive without you. You must protect him, Sentinel."

"My son?" Ellison whispered.

"It is time for you to go back and begin your journey, Enqueri."

"Go back? How do I go back when I don't even know how I got here?" Jim desperately moved toward Incacha's fading vision. "What journey?"

"Follow your son's voice, Sentinel." Incacha instructed calmly. "Your little one is trying hard, but he is very young and you must help him. You must concentrate on his voice and focus on his smell and the touch of his skin beneath your hands. He will guide you, but to be a guide with purpose, he must have one who will follow."

The freight train was back with a vengeance, this time slamming Ellison into the conscious world; a world that now existed for two.

Jim sat up with a sudden jerking motion, trying not only to clear his head, but also figure out if he'd just been in the middle of some kind of vision or if he'd just simply had a dream. It took the expression on Blair's face, which hovered somewhere between joyous and scared shitless, to bring him hurtling straight back down to earth. "Blair... Chief, god, I am sorry." He reached out to touch Blair's cheek, trying not to let the reactive flinch that came with the gesture get the better of him. "Chief, I don't know how I ever managed to forget that you were with me and I am so, so sorry that I left you here."

Blair didn't respond with words. The hurt and uncertainty that shone from his eyes spoke loud enough and all Jim could do was gather him into his arms. "Come on," he whispered into a mop full of curls. "Let's get outta here."

Getting to his feet with Blair this time securely in his embrace, Jim headed toward the door. How am I ever going to make it up to you? he thought. How will you ever learn to trust me now? Shouldering Blair's backpack, Jim tighten his hold on the child who he knew, without a doubt, was his son.

The only doubt to haunt Ellison now was what kind of father he'd make to a child who deserved nothing short of the world.

Simon barrelled into the loft, not waiting for an invitation. "How's he doing?"

"No so good."

"So where is he?"

"Upstairs, asleep in my bed." Jim scrubbed his hand roughly through his hair before turning forlorn and grief filled eyes on his captain. "I can't believe I forgot him. I walked straight out of that office without giving him a second thought. First his mother dumps him, and then I go and do the same thing." Ellison turned away, not able to cope with the pity he saw on Simon's face. "I'm right back to square one with him. He barely looks at me, won't speak to me and gives me no reaction when I try and get through to him how sorry I am. He's shut me out, Simon."

"He'll come around." Simon reassured, giving Jim's shoulder a quick squeeze. "This whole 'kid thing' is a totally new concept to you and you're bound to hit some bumps in the road."

"This is no bump, Simon," Jim responded. "It's more like a huge, gapping hole in the ground that goes straight down to hell."

"Jim, you've been thrown in the deep end in a pretty big way." He released Ellison's shoulder and headed into the kitchen, plucking two beers from the fridge. "It's hard to suddenly become responsible for another person, especially a child. Most of us have nine months to get used to the idea. You've had less than a day." Pulling out a kitchen chair, Simon slid a beer across the table to Jim. "I can tell you one thing, though. If it turns out that Blair is your son and you do end up gaining of custody of him, that boy will be one of the luckiest kids around. You'll make a great dad, my friend, and I'm not just saying that to make you feel better. If I know you as well as I think I do, then you'll give your heart and soul to that boy."

"Thanks Simon." The smile on Jim's face was sincere. "I needed that."

Swinging out his chair, he took a seat on the opposite side of the table. "You said you had some information on Blair?"

"I do, but there's a couple of things I'd like to go over before you read them."

"Like what?"

"Blair's birth certificate for starters. Naomi Sandburg is listed as his mother, but his father is unlisted as unknown."

"That's not all that unusual and besides, it's only gonna take a simple test to determine that I'm his father."

Simon raised his eyebrow, but didn't comment on Ellison's last statement "The second report I've got is not so good." He slid the file across the table. "Its Blair's medical record and it seems that the little fella has had some pretty bad accidents over the past year."

"What kind of accidents?" Jim hesitantly reached for the file. Simon's body language had already told him that whatever was in the file, it wasn't going to be good.

"I'll never get it, you know." Jim let go of the last page of Blair's file, not caring when it missed the table and fluttered to the ground.

"I don't think anyone ever really gets it," Simon added, softly.

"How, Simon? How does a man beat a child?" Jim struggled to his feet and made his way over to the balcony doors. "And how does a mother stand by and let it happen?"

"If I had the answer to that, Jim, then maybe this world wouldn't be as screwed up as it is."

Ellison spun around. "Why the hell wasn't he taken away from her? How does a two-year-old end up with a concussion, a broken arm, three broken ribs and not be taken away? Why wasn't that bastard arrested?"

"Because of the lack of evidence. According to the report, Naomi stated that Blair had fallen down a flight of stairs and there wasn't any physical evidence to disprove her story. The information was forwarded on to Social Services, but by the time a social worker was assigned, Naomi had signed him out of the hospital and left the state. I guess Blair just slipped through the system."

"Twice! How does it happen twice, Simon?" Ellison surged forward and picked up the file. "Six months later he's in emergency with another concussion, healing cigarette burns and severe bruising to both his back and buttocks. 'Bruising which could indicate the child had been kicked several times.' How the hell can a doctor write that and not report child abuse?"

"Because the report was misplaced, and by the time it was filed, Naomi had signed Blair out and taken off."

Ellison threw the file back down. "Well she was receiving welfare payments. It couldn't have been that hard to track her down."

"No, you're right, it wouldn't have been. But unfortunately, no one bothered to look."

"Well I'm sure as hell gonna look," Jim spat.

"Jim, let's just stop for a moment and think this through. If you're serious about getting custody, then the first thing we need to do, after you've proven that you are Blair's father, is file for temporary custody. If you can show that Naomi has abandoned Blair and left him in your care willingly, it's going to be in your favour. That, together with his medical records, should make the process a lot easier. If Naomi is around to contest the decision, then things could get messy. Once you've got temporary custody, then you go for full and permanent custody. I can pull some strings and get this before a judge, as soon as possible, if you want?"

"He's not going back to her Simon. I won't ever let him be put in that kind of danger again."

"I'll get the wheels in motion." Pushing out his chair, Simon got to his feet. "In the meantime, I'm gonna give Brad Wilson a call. He might not be one of the most professionally minded PI's about, but he's good at digging up the dirt, and the more we find, the better. Tomorrow you need to get that DNA test done and have Blair thoroughly checked over. There might be some evidence of sexual abuse as well, Jim, and if that's the case, then it's going to have to be documented."

"I know." Jim scrubbed his hand over his tied face. Sexual abuse, on top of everything else that Blair had been through, was not something he felt ready to face.

Bank's gathered up Blair's file and tucked it under his arm. Jim has already seen everything he needed to see. "Get some rest, Jim."

Letting Simon out of the apartment, Jim knew that sleep would be a long time in coming. In one, single, reckless night of sex, he'd given life to child, a child he barely knew. But in the space of one short day, this child had stolen his heart and captivated his soul.

Blair was his son, and there would be no turning back.

Jim trudged a weary path up the stairs to his bedroom. It had been a long day -- too long, and if he had the power to erase some part of it, he would have done so in a heartbeat.

Blair, who had not moved an inch since he last checked, was sleeping soundly, but Jim could only imagine what the child's dreams were filled with. Taking a seat on the mattress, he traced a gentle finger over Blair's cheek. "I can't believe that you are part of me," he whispered. "And I'm so very sorry that I wasn't there to welcome you into the world." He moved his hand up and softly smoothed out the creases that had formed on Blair's forehead. "Things will be different from now on, kiddo, and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and to give you the kind of life you deserve."

Content with just watching Blair sleep, Jim mentally catalogued every feature of the child's beautiful little face and let himself become absorbed, utterly and completely in the feelings he now felt for Blair. He'd missed so much of his son's life and from this night on, he didn't intend to miss one single moment more.

The shattering of glass was the first alert to hit Jim's subconscious; the second was the absence of Blair in the bed next to him. Kicking off the covers, he was on his feet and down the stairs in seconds flat and it only took him a minute to locate Blair and the source of the sound that had woken him.

"Hey, Munchkin, you alright?" he asked, approaching cautiously. Broken glass lay around Blair's feet, but it was the fear shining from the child's eyes that had Jim most concerned.

"I sowwy!" Blair blurted out in panic as Jim come closer. "It was a accident and I not mean to drop it." Without taking his frightened eyes off Jim, he bent down to pick up some of the glass, but was stopped as Jim reached out and grabbed his hand.

"No!" Blair jerked away, breaking Jim's grasp. He shot his body backward, his bare feet just missing one of the larger pieces of glass.

It was a well-rehearsed defensive move and every inch of Jim screamed at him to back off and give Blair some time to calm down, but the shards of glass left no room for negotiation. Reaching out, Jim quickly plucked his son off the floor and folded him into his arms. He held on tightly, refusing to let go as Blair struggled and kicked out. "It's okay, kiddo," he crooned, "I'm not going to hit you, baby. No matter what, I promise I will never hit you."

Finally giving in to not only Jim's strength, but also a tiny voice inside that told him that just maybe he could trust this man, Blair stopped struggling. He clung on and buried his tear stained face into Jim's chest. "I sowwy," he repeated over and over. "I sowwy."

"It's alright. It's gonna be all right," Jim comforted, matching Blair's seemingly never-ending chorus of apologies. "I'm not mad at you, Munchkin," he insisted again. "It was just an accident and accidents happen." He rocked Blair back and forth, and let Blair's body language set the pace. When the time was right, they'd talk, and no matter how long it took, he had to make Blair understand that no matter what, he was safe around him.

Pacing a track from the living room to the kitchen, Jim continued to reassure and comfort. He rubbed his hand up and down Blair's back, trying to sooth away the worst of the tension. Just as he got the feeling that Blair might be actually starting to nod off, a small voice murmured against his chest. "Ahre you my daddy?" Blair bravely pushed himself out from Jim's hold and looked straight into Jim's eyes. "Mama said you wehre," he sniffled. "But you don't hab to be if you not want to be."

"Ah, baby." Jim immediately sat Blair down on the countertop and took his face between his hands. "Chief, there's nothing more I want in this world than to be your father." He thumbed the hollows just under Blair's eyes, wiping away the last remnants of tears. "Would it be okay with you if I was?"

Blair's smile was radiant and Jim's brilliant as the words he'd so badly wanted to hear came to life. "Can I call you daddy?"

"Munchkin, that would make me the happiest man in the world." He plucked Blair off the counter and swung him into his arms. "Now, Fumbles, whatd'ya say we have some cookies and milk before going back to bed?"

"My name not Fumbles," Blair complained.

Ellison laughed and swung his son over his shoulder, making the boy break down into a peel of giggles. "Tell that to the glass on the floor, Chief."

He was testing the water, but by Blair's reaction to the mention of the glass, it appeared that the rest of night just might sail by on calm waters. Blair's smile was back, and though it was just the beginning, he felt in his heart that this just might be the beginning of the rest of his life.

Despite the air-conditioning unit humming in the corner, the doctor's waiting room was hot and stuffy and had Jim pulling at the constrictive collar of his shirt. Blair sat on his knee, apparently unperturbed by the closed in feeling of the room. He was happy and content, thumbing his way through a picture book he'd found in a box of toys in the corner.

Seconds before the door clicked open, Jim looked up, waiting for the doctor to emerge. "Jim," she said, with a friendly smile. "Why don't you come on through?"

"That's our cue, Chief." Jim dropped Blair to his feet and took his hand. The three-year old eyed the doctor cautiously as they passed her, but the woman's friendly smile never left her face.

"Nice to see you again, Jim," she greeted, indicating for Ellison to take a seat. "And, this handsome young man here must be Blair?" She clicked the door closed with a gentle push and rounded her desk.

"The one and only," Jim replied.

With Blair seated on his lap, it didn't take long for the youngster's curious eye to spot the soft toy sitting on the shelf just behind the doctor. "Look Daddy, it's that silly buhd." He pointed to Big Bird. "What's he doing here?"

"Do you like Big Bird, Blair?" Gillian Francis asked, as she retrieved the toy and handed it over.

With his initial apprehension fading fast, Blair accepted the toy without hesitation. "Ah-ha. He's on the TV and he's funny."

"So, Blair, your dad tells me that you have a bit of a cold and maybe a sore ear. Do you think I could take a look?"

Blair just shrugged his shoulders, more interested in the toy than the doctor.

"I take that as a yes," she inquired, picking up her otoscope.

Jim just nodded, running his hand through Blair's hair to hold it back from his ear.

"You know I'm going to have to do a thorough exam to confirm what we discussed on the phone."

"I know," Jim answered quietly. It was the last thing on earth he wanted to put Blair through, and if there was another way, he'd take it. But there wasn't. Blair needed to be examined and the doctor's findings needed to be recorded. If they were lucky, the bastard Blair's mother was living with hadn't interfered with Blair sexually, but given Blair's behaviour in the bathroom the day before, Jim had serious doubts.

"Okay, all done here," Doctor Francis, announced. "It looks like you have the beginnings of an ear infection, young man." She turned her attention toward Jim. "I'll prescribe some antibiotics that should clear it up. The good news is that his chest sounds clear, and other than that, he appears to be healthy." She reached into a cabinet behind her desk and retrieved two swabs. "Why don't I do the DNA test next?" With Blair now more interested in what she was doing, she directed her question at him "How about I do dad first and then you can see how easy it is."

Blair nodded and watched with great interest as the doctor swabbed the inside of his father's mouth. When it came to his turn, he mimicked Jim's actions almost to the letter.

"See, how easy was that?" Gillian sealed up the sample. "I'll put an urgent rush on these. Hopefully they'll let you jump to the top of the que and if we're lucky, we might even get the results back this evening."

"Thanks, Gillian." Jim took a deep, uneasy breath. The exam coming up next was the one he dreaded and he had no idea were to even begin to explain to Blair what was going on.

Sensing Jim's unease, Gillian took the responsibility out of his hands. "Blair," she said, gently rubbing his knee to get his attention. "I need to do just one more exam and for me to do that, I'm going to need you to come and lay down on my examination table." She pointed toward the high table on the far side of the room. "It has a nice warm blanket to cover you over, but you're going to have to get undressed for me, sweetheart."

"No," Blair's action was once again instantaneous, but this time Jim was prepared. He caught Blair before the youngster managed to scramble off his knee and mirroring an action that had been successful in the past, took Blair's face gently in his hands. "Blair," he said softly. "The doctor wouldn't ask you to do it if it wasn't really important. Now, I know you don't want to, but I promise I will be right next to you and I won't let her hurt you."

"I not want to." Blair tried hard to remain calm, but he didn't want to take his clothes off, not even for his daddy.

Jim lifted Blair into his arms and got to his feet. He brushed Blair's hair away from his face. "Munchkin, I know this is hard and you have every right not to trust people, but this is very, very important. The doctor needs to know a few things so that daddy can go and talk to a very important man who just might let you come live with me."

A million thoughts ran through Blair's mind, but the most fervent one was being able to stay with Jim and not having to ever see Tom again. If he lived with Jim, then maybe his mama would decide to come back and they could stay together at Jim's house. "You won't go away?" Blair finally asked quietly.

"I'll be right by your side, kiddo."

"Kay." Blair reluctantly nodded his consent and without leaving any leeway for Blair to change his mind, Jim quickly stripped the three year old and covered him with the blanket. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could start giving Blair the love, security and safety he needed. And the sooner this was over, the soon he could start being a father.

With Big Bird clutched in one hand, Jim tightly held Blair's other hand. "It'll be over soon, Chief," he assured.

"Okay, Blair." Gillian Francis kept her tone as light and as calm as she possibly could. "I'm just going to have a little look at your tummy." She lowered the blanket, palpitating gently around Blair's abdomen. With practiced and professional skill, she quickly moved lower, making her examination short and succinct. Glancing at Jim, she said quietly. "Do you think you could get him to lay on his side?"

Jim grimaced as he watched her slip on a latex glove and cover her finger in gel. Without a word, he worked Blair onto his side, he gathered him as close as he possibly could. He buried his face in Blair's hair and massaged his scalp with his free hand. "It's okay, baby," he whispered. "It will all be over soon."

"I'll be as quick and as gentle as I can, Jim." Gillian Francis took the meaning of her statement to the last letter and she endeavoured to keep the exam as comfortable and as less intrusive as possible for Blair.

Within minutes, Gillian was finished. She covered Blair back up and peeled off the glove, tossing it in the trash. Pulling the curtains around the bed, she softly touched Blair's hair before turning to leave the confined space. "I'll give you some privacy to get him dressed."

Blair was back in his shell. There were no words and no interaction and dressing the three-year-old was on a par to dressing a rag doll. Jim did his best to comfort and give reassurance to Blair that the worst was behind them, but Blair wasn't listening. By the time they were both seated back at Gillian's desk, Blair was straddling his father's lap, with his head buried deep inside Jim's jacket. Big Bird was exactly were he'd been since the ordeal begun -- clutched tightly against the youngster's body.

Jim gently rubbed his hand up and down the length of Blair's back. "What's the verdict?" he asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

"There is evidence of previous penetration, Jim. By my estimation, from the level of scarring I felt, I'd say the worst happened around six months ago."

"The worst?" Jim asked, his blood running cold.

"There's recent bruising, but no indication of internal damage, which leads me to believe that there's been interference, but no actual recent penetration." The stone, cold look on Jim's face mirrored exactly how she felt inside. "I'm going to get a report typed up right away and put a rush on the DNA test. If you need me to testify for tomorrow, just let me know and I will drop everything on my schedule to be there."

"Thanks Gillian," Jim nodded, not knowing what else to say.

"Hey, buddy." Jim gave Blair a little jiggle. "What'd ya say we get outta here?" He stood, not expecting an answer. "I think that Doctor Francis is going to need Big Bird back, Munchkin."

"Actually, you know what." Gillian pushed back her chair and rounded her desk. "I think that Big Bird has been rather lonely lately, sitting up there all by himself on the shelf with no one to talk to. Do you think maybe you could take him and look after him for me, Blair? I know he's a great listener and I'm sure he'd love to have someone talk to him. What do you think?"

Blair gave a nod so slight that it would have been missed, unless you were looking for it.

"Then it's a deal," She squeezed Jim's elbow. "Take care of him, won't you?"

Ellison added his own nod. Taking care of Blair had just become his life's mission.

God, what a shitty, shitty day. Jim padded lightly down the stairs, carefully avoiding the squeaky treads. After leaving Gillian's office, he had tried to bring Blair out of his shell, but nothing seemed to do the trick. Lunch at Wonder Burger, a trip to the mall, even a shopping spree at the toyshop did nothing to brighten Blair's spirits. In hindsight, the only thing he should have done was to bring Blair straight back home -- away from crowds and away from everything except the one thing that Blair did seem to respond to -- the security of his lap.

The shrill of the phone made Jim quicken his step. He snatched it up before it had the chance to wake Blair.

"Jim, it's Gillian Francis. I'm sorry about the time, but I've got the results of the test and I thought you'd like to know as soon as possible."

Jim's heart didn't miss a beat. He already knew what the answer was. "I'm his father, aren't I?"

"Yes," she confirmed with a smile in her voice. "The test conclusively shows that you are Blair's father."

"Gillian, I can't thank you enough for everything you did today. I know it couldn't have been pleasant for you either."

"Jim, that's not important. The one and only important thing is Blair. How's he doing?" she asked, with concern.

"Asleep, finally. It's been one hell of a rough day."

"Well, lets hope that things will start to get better from here on in. Kids are pretty resilient little beings and with enough love and support, I'm sure he'll pull through."

"But how many monsters will he harbour?"

"Only time can give the answer to that, I'm afraid." She paused briefly. "You let me know if you need me tomorrow. I meant what I said about clearing my schedule."

"I will, and thank you. I wouldn't have felt comfortable with my son in the hands of anyone else but you."

"It might not seem like it just now, but he's a lucky boy, you know."

"He will be," Jim answered. "Thanks again."

As Ellison hung up the phone, a load lifted from his shoulders. The wheels were in motion and there would be no putting on the brake until he was granted full and unconditional custody of his only child. There would be no stopping until that day arrived.

You couldn't have wiped the smile from Jim's face with a brillo pad or a mega dose of cod liver oil. In light of Naomi's disappearance and her failing to provide safe and adequate living conditions for her son, the judge had granted him temporary custody of Blair, and with the additional details that Brad Wilson had managed to uncover, the chances of permanent custody was looking very encouraging.

Unlocking the front door, Jim's smile became even wider. Blair was flopped over Simon like he was an easy chair and his best friend and his son where totally engrossed in the antics of Big Bird and the rest of the Sesame Street characters. "Anyone miss me?" Jim piped up.

"Daddy!" Blair shrieked out. Leaving Bird Big in the capable hands of the police captain, he barrelled over to his father and put his hands in the air to be picked up. "Where did you be?" he asked.

"I've been to see a man about a dog, Chief."

"Are you getting a puppy?" Blair asked with an edge of excitement creeping into his voice.

"No, but I am getting a little boy," Jim replied, tickling Blair's sock clad feet. "You remember how I told you that I had to go see a very important man? Well, today that man said yes."

"What did he sayed yes to?" Blair asked.

Jim set Blair down on the floorboards and knelt down in front of him. "Chief, I need to ask you a very important question."

"Just like the important man's question."

"Kind of," Jim answered. "But my question is one that can only be answered by you." Jim cupped the back of Blair's neck. "Now, you don't have to answer me right away and you can think about your answer for as long as you want."

"Ah, ha," Blair answered.

Taking the answer as if Blair understood, Jim took a deep breath. "Chief, I was wondering if you would like to live with me?"

True to Jim's instructions, Blair didn't answer right away and a knot formed in the pit of Ellison's stomach as a crease formed on the youngster's brow. "Does that mean I not have to live with Tom?"

"No kiddo, you won't ever have to see Tom again."

"And Mama? Will she comed here to lived with us?"

"No, Blair. Your mother won't be here," Jim answered honestly. "For the moment, you mother won't be able to see you at all."

Blair thought for a few moments longer before finally shrugging his shoulders. "It okay. Mama sometimes goes away but she will comed back when she has her insides back."

The only interpretation Jim would fathom out of Blair's answer was that Naomi must have dumped Blair in the past to go find herself.

All of a sudden Blair launched himself at his father, throwing his arms around his neck. "I like it here. Can I stay, daddy?"

"You sure can, Munchkin." Flooded with relief, Jim bounced to his feet, taking Blair with him. He glanced at Simon and could have sworn he'd seen the other man brushing away a discreet tear. "So," he began. Today was a day for happy thoughts and to looking forward to the future. "I guess you're going to need your own bedroom, little squirt." He tossed Blair over his shoulder and walked over to the small, cluttered room under the stairs. Flipping the boy upside before settling him on his feet, Ellison took command. "We'll just move all these boxes to the basement, then after a lick of paint, a door, and some furniture fit for a three year old, I think this room has the making of one perfect bedroom for one perfect little boy."

"My own woom!" Blair exclaimed as he bounced on his toes.

A smile is just another smile in the making, Jim thought, and by the way things were shaking up, smiles looked as if they were going to be plentiful.

"Congratulation, dad." Simon extended his hand, his own smile radiant. "You need some help with the renovations?"

"I never say no to free labour," Ellison quipped, warmly accepting Bank's handshake.

"Free is only free when there's no Chinese dinner at the end." Simon slapped Jim on the shoulder. "I like two kinds of egg rolls, by the way," he grinned.

With one bedroom project well under way and a very satisfying meal under their belts, Simon stayed just long enough to help clean up the worst of the mess, before leaving to pick up his own son. Blair was totally engrossed in a video playing on the television and Jim was left wondering how to broach the subject of a bath. It had been two full days since Blair had bathed, and he couldn't put it off any longer. Deciding to act just as normally and casually as he could, Jim headed toward the bathroom and began to fill the tub. A small scuffle of feet on the floorboard alerted him to Blair's presence.

"What you doin'?" asked Blair as he peered around the corner.

"I thought it's about time you had a soak in the tub Junior."

Cautiously he chose his next words very carefully. "Why don't you get undressed and hop in, while I go and find your pj's?"

Damn, Jim thought as Blair scurried from the room quicker than a rabbit darting across a highway. What the hell am I gonna to do now? He can't go forever without a bath. While still working on his next plan of attack, Blair surprised him by returning with the old book that he carried in his backpack. He watched, without saying a word as Blair set the book down carefully on the tiles and opened it to the first page.

"It's okay now," Blair said, pointing to the first picture. "This is the daddy and this is the son."

Looking closely, Jim could see that the book was actually an old picture book that was probably printed around the early fifties. The pictures portrayed a very clean-cut, well-dressed father engaged in various activities with his equally clean-cut, well-dressed son. Turning the page very carefully, Blair pointed to the next picture. "The daddy and the boy, they go fishing, and widing on hohses and playing in the mud." He giggled as he turned to another picture of the man and his son with their jeans rolled up, walking through the mud.

"Do you like to play in the mud, Chief?" Jim asked, edging closer.

"Ah-ha," came what was now a standard reply. "It fun and I liked it when it squishes in my toes. Look," he continued as he turned to the second-last page. "The daddy is washing the boy's hai-uh 'cause he got dirty in the mud. His bath has lots of bubbles too." Blair flipped over to the very last page. "It's okay for daddies to give baths 'cause," he said, tracing his finger under the words written in big black letters. "'cause daddies love they little boys."

Jim couldn't stop his eyes from watering as he pulled Blair into a hug. "They sure do kiddo," he whispered.

It's gonna be alright, he thought. Blair and I are going to be okay.

The next few weeks flew by and Jim had never realized how quiet and empty the loft had been before Blair had arrived. They'd both settled into a fairly regular routine and once he felt that Blair was adjusting to his new situation, he started looking around for a good child care centre to enroll him in. The harsh reality of life was that in a few weeks he would have to return to work, and he'd also have to get used to leaving and trusting Blair's care to others. Joel had broached the idea of Blair and his wife getting to know each other with the hope that she'd pick Blair up early in the afternoon so he'd have some semblance of a home life that didn't begin at nightfall. Having no grandchildren of her own and being a retired teacher, Jessie was over the moon at having the opportunity to be around children again, and by the way the pair had hit it off, Jim felt somewhat hopeful that the situation would become long term.

After thoroughly doing his homework, Jim enrolled Blair in a centre that was central to both Joel's house and the loft. The centre was run by an energetic, vibrant young woman by the name of Nicole Dickson. In her mid-thirties, and with past experience in dealing with and counselling children with histories of abuse, she seemed well qualified to care for Blair's needs. And the fact that Blair had appeared to feel right at home was an added bonus.

Knowing his days of being a stay at home dad were dwindling fast, Jim started spending an hour or so at the centre every day until Blair was finally comfortable at being left alone, leaving him free to complete all the other chores he was gradually getting used to now that he had another person to care for.

Juggling a bag of groceries in one arm and catching the phone with the other before it hit the ground, Jim didn't have time to get out a greeting before the voice on the end of the line spoke. "I'd like to speak to Jim Ellison."

"That's me in all his glory," Ellison quipped.

"Um, well... it's Naomi Sandburg here. I'm calling to let you know that I want to collect Blair. I know it's short notice, but I'd appreciate it if you could bring him down to the park on Northside Avenue around two. I'll meet you there."

Jim took a deep, calming breath and worked at putting a tight rein on his emotions. Using the same tone he would if he were interviewing a suspect, he replied. "I'm afraid that won't be possible Ms. Sandburg. You see, at this point in time, I have custody of Blair, but I suspect you already know that, seeing as your welfare payment would have been adjusted accordingly. I also suspect those same welfare payments are the reason for this call. Am I right, Ms. Sandburg?" With no answer forthcoming, Jim continued, "As I have legal guardianship of Blair, I must also inform you that any attempt to make contact with my son without my permission will be deemed illegal, and as such will result in your arrest. Do you understand that Ms. Sandburg?"

The line disconnected without so much as a reply and Jim was already on the offensive. Pushing the speed dial, he tried frantically to get through to the day care centre, but all he received was a constant busy tone. Changing tack, he dialled work. There was bound to be some black and whites in the neighbourhood that could swing by the centre and keep a discreet eye on things until he got there.

The police switchboard picked up immediately and Ellison barked into the receiver. "It's Detective Ellison here. Patch me through to Banks in Major Crime."

Jim hadn't even begun to use his powers of persuasion before Banks hung up and got the wheels spinning.

Naomi was a nervous wreck. Hanging up the phone, her mind raced to think of a suitable excuse to tell the man hovering over her.

"Well, what time do you pick him up?"

"I can't," she stuttered.

"What do you mean, you can't?" Short in both stature and patience, Tom Walsh was often referred to as 'The Bulldog', and it was a nickname that was suitably given. What he lacked in size, he made up for in muscle strength and a volatile personality. But unlike a bulldog, Tom chose his victims carefully and would never take on an opponent if the odds weren't in his favour. Naomi and her young child were very much in his favour.

"Jim... Jim said that he now has custody of Blair." Naomi clutched her skinny, bony arms to her chest. "I knew it wasn't a good idea leaving Blair with him."

Walsh tossed a full bottle of beer at the wall, sending shards of glass and liquor spraying all over the floor. "Like hell he's got custody. That little shit's my paycheck." He lunged once more at Naomi, grabbing at her wrist and pulling her into his body. "Where is the kid now?" he demanded.

"I don't know," she stuttered.

"Don't be a stupid bitch, Naomi. I know you've been following them around and you also know what happens when you lie to me." For all of Naomi's motherly faults, on the occasions when she did find the courage, she would put herself between him and the child and the look in her eye had Walsh suspecting that this could be one of those moments. Lowering his voice, he changed tactics. "Come on, baby," he said, gently stroking her hair. "Don't break us up. We were just starting to be a family." He took her chin tenderly in his hand. "You do want me to help you get your little boy back, don't you?"

Naomi leaned into the warm caress of Tom's hand, once again beguiled by his power of persuasion. "He's at the child care centre on Spencer Road."

Tom Walsh may have had his moments of violence, but he provided Naomi with just what she needed and if Blair could just learn how to live around Tom without getting under his skin, then maybe they did have the chance of being a family.

"That's my girl," Tom acknowledged, sweetly. "Why don't I go and pick him up, and by the time we come back, you make sure that you have everything packed and we'll just hit the road and get outta here."

Naomi simply nodded her head. This time she'd try even harder to be a good woman to Tom and a better mother to Blair. She'd stay off the drugs and stay away from the alcohol and just maybe Tom would make the same effort. Just maybe, if they both tried hard enough, they did have a chance.

Walsh pulled up outside the child care centre on Spencer Road just as a wave of children spilled out the door and flooded the playground. He spotted Blair immediately and without hesitation pushed open the car door and crossed the road. The fence didn't provide much of an obstacle for his athletic frame and in no time flat he had it scaled and had positioned himself behind Blair. "Hey, Blair Boy, I'm back," he drew out with a sneer in his voice. Snatching Blair by the arm, he pulled him up so the child was forced to stand on tiptoes. "Your Mama wants to see you, kid."

"No." Blair tried to claw at the tight gripped fingers, but to no avail. "I have to stay here and wait for daddy," he said, his voice quivering.

Hoping to avoid a scene, Walsh knelt down and roughly pulled Blair toward him. "She's real sick, Blair Boy, and she even might die if she doesn't get to see you real soon. You wouldn't want that, would you? Remember when your rabbit died? Remember how much pain he was in?" Tom gave Blair a quick, harsh shake. "He died because you didn't love him enough, Blair. You wouldn't want your Mama to die because you didn't love her enough, would you?"

"Get away from him." The voice came from nowhere, but the figure behind it was barrelling down on him fast.

Knowing he needed to act, not so much to escape the woman heading his way, but needing to move just in case she'd called the cops, Tom picked up Blair with brutal haste and started back towards the fence. A sharp pain sunk into his forearm and in an automatic reaction, Walsh dropped Blair. "You little bastard," he snapped when he realised that the kid had bitten him hard enough to break the skin. "You're gonna pay for that, you little shit." Raising his arm and snapping it down hard, Walsh's fist unintentionally struck the side of Nicole Dickson's head, not Blair's.

Dazed and stunned, but still competent enough to recognise the threat to one of her kids, Nicole kicked out blindly as she screamed at Blair to move. Another staff member came running into the yard, armed with a cell phone in her hand and ushered the children urgently inside.

Running out of time, Walsh once again started to reach for Blair, who was now kneeling by the fallen woman's side. As his fingers brushed across the boy's arm, a forceful tug sent him stumbling backward. Spun around by the same hand, Walsh knew he was in trouble. The cold, ice blue eyes boring into him made that fact very clear.

"Hey man," he stammered. "I was only talking to the kid. I didn't do him any harm."

Ellison grabbed Walsh by the throat, holding him in a brutal grip. "You want to hit someone?" he started, coldly. "Then why don't you take a swing at me?" He tightened his grip, cutting off Walsh's airway. "Or am I a little out of your league?"

"Please man, you're choking me." Walsh coughed out, his eye wide and full of fear.

"You're not scared, are you?" Ellison whispered menacingly, pulling Walsh closer. "I thought you'd be braver than that. I mean, if you're tough enough to beat up little kids, you shouldn't have a problem taking me on." Ellison's grip was now getting dangerous. "What do you say, Studly? Wanna go a couple of rounds?"

"Help, someone get him off me," Walsh pleaded. Going weak at the knees, his vision began to blur and he could actually feel his eyes bulging from their sockets.

"Jim, let him go." Simon's voice was calm and full of authority. "You do this and you'll be the one I'll be running down to the station." Banks moved closer. "Is revenge worth sacrificing your son for, Ellison?"

"Blair?" Momentarily forgetting about Walsh, Jim sorted out the whereabouts of his son. Blair's big blue eyes stared at him with the same fright he saw in the man whose life he held in his hand. In disgust, Ellison released his grip and without giving Walsh a moments reprieve to catch his breath, tossed him in Bank's direction.

Banks, inturn, tossed Walsh to the uniforms. "Read him his rights and take him downtown. I want this done by the book," he warned. "No mistakes and no accidents, understand?" Turning back toward Ellison, Banks muttered under his breath. "This is one bastard who I can't wait to see make friends in the slammer."

Jim was already by Blair's side, trying to console his pleas. "Daddy, she dead. Tom hit her like he does to me and he made her dead, daddy." His little hands reached out to try and shake Nicole awake. "She not waking up."

Jim pulled Blair into his arms and reached out to check Nicole Dickson's pulse. "She's not dead, Chief, but she does have a bad knock on the head." Moving aside for the paramedics, now on scene, he lifted Blair up with him as he stood. "She's gonna be alright, baby." Watching the proceedings closely, he prayed that there would be truth behind his words.

It was just a brief flutter of eyelids, but enough to have Jim reaching for Nicole's hand. "Thank you," he said, squeezing it gently.

"...do for all my kids," she murmured. "...love them all."

Ellison nodded toward the paramedics. "Is she going to be alright?"

"It appears as if she has a slight concussion, but I'm sure she'll be fine."

As Nicole was lifted into the ambulance, Blair snuggled further, taking comfort in the safety of his father's arms. "Will Tom comed back?" he asked, quietly.

Jim rubbed his Blair's back. "No Munchkin, he won't be back."

Leaving Simon to tie up any loose ends, Ellison headed toward his truck, content that his promise to his son wasn't an empty one. Walsh may, in time, get out of prison, but he'd make sure he would never touch Blair again.

"Jim, have you seen this?" Simon walked into the loft, once again without waiting for an invitation. He tossed the file he had in his hand on the kitchen counter. "It seems that our Tom Walsh has met an early demise."

"Yeah? How?" Ellison quietly walked over and closed Blair's bedroom door.

"Poisoned."

"By what?" The file remained untouched on the table.

"By a substance which is only found in a frog that is indigenous to South America. According to the coroner, it causes massive internal bleeding and people die as a result of drowning in their own blood. 'One of the more unpleasant ways of dying', I think was how he worded it."

"Gee, that's a darn shame," Ellison replied in a dramatically sarcastic tone.

"Yeah, it is, isn't it," Banks replied. "Strange thing is, though, it appears that this particular poison is used by certain Indian tribes in Peru; it's never been reported in the US. Don't you find that strange, Jim?"

"Why are you asking me, Simon?" Ellison finally picked up the file. "I'm not exactly the guy's number one fan, but I hope you're not suggesting that I had anything to do with Walsh's death." Jim flipped through the file. "The report say that the poison was given sometime yesterday afternoon, and if my memory serves me correctly, which it always does, I believe you, me and Blair were somewhere around the monkey enclosure at Cascade zoo right about that time." Ellison threw the file down on the table. "Or was it the tiger exhibition?"

This time, Banks picked up the file. "The report also said that they found a small puncture wound on his neck. Almost like the puncture mark you would receive if you were hit by a dart from a blowpipe. Don't you find that strange, Jim?"

"Strange things happen in this world, Simon, and if you want to look through my arsenal of blowpipes and assorted bongs, be my guest."

"Funny, Ellison," Banks snapped. There was no substantial evidence to link Ellison with Walsh's death, other than Jim had spent time in Peru. Even the trip to the zoo wasn't Jim's idea, so it wasn't even as if he were looking for a suitable alibi. But as Captain of Police, Banks had a duty to ask.

"So, now that the Spanish inquisition is over, do you still have some time to hang around and keep an eye on Blair for an hour or so?"

"Sure," Simon answered. "But you never did tell me where you're off to?"

"I'm going to meet with Naomi Sandburg." Jim smiled at the look of surprise on Simon's face. "And I promise I'll leave all my blowpipes and poisonous darts at home." Jim held out his arms. "You can even frisk me if you like?"

"What's the meeting about?" Simon's concern now shifted toward the possibility of Jim losing custody of his son. "Is she trying to get Blair back?"

"I'm not sure, but that's what I want to find out. I figure if I can meet with her before I get hit with a lawyer's letter, then I'm far better prepared to fight."

"Has Blair mentioned her at all?"

"No, hardly a word, so as far as that side of things go. I'm just going to keep quiet unless he asks."

"And if he does ask to see her?"

"I can't let him, Simon." Jim replied honestly. "When he's old enough to make his own decisions, then yes, it'll be up to him to decide if he wants to see her or not, but until that happens, I'm responsible for his safety and my gut tells me that putting him in her hands is dangerous and I simply won't do it. No matter what."

"No argument from me, there." Even though he was divorced, he was lucky that his son had two stable and loving homes to go to. Plopping down onto the sofa, Simon reached for the remote. "So, how does it feel now that you've had a few weeks to get used to being a father?"

Jim stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "To be honest, I don't know how I existed without him and I don't know what I'd do if I never heard the word 'daddy' again."

"I don't think there's too much chance of that, Jim. Even if the very worst ends up happening, Blair loves you and you'll always be his father."

Jim pushed himself upright. The worst wasn't going to happen, because he wasn't going to let it happen.

Banks turned his attention toward the television. "Hadn't you better get going?"

"I'll just check Blair before I leave." Softly pushing the door open, Jim padded into the room, only to be brought to an immediate stop by the sight of Incacha standing at the end of the bed. Unfazed, Ellison folded his arms across his chest. "Incacha, I'm assuming that you've been busy?"

"It is my duty, as it is yours, to protect the tribe, Enqueri." Incacha turned around to face his sentinel. "He was a great threat to your son and as such, needed to be dealt with."

"Then I guess I should say thank you."

"You and your son have a long path ahead of you and there is much you have to learn." He brushed a soft hand across Blair's brow. "Be vigilant, Sentinel," he warned. "Even when your destiny feels as if it has been taken from your hands, you must always continue to fight for your son."

"There's no question about that," Jim assured, as Incacha began to fade. Walking further into Blair's room, he adjusted the covers and bent down, placing a kiss on his sleeping son's forehead. "Absolutely no question about that."

Jim took a seat at the table opposite Naomi Sandburg, and reached into his jacket for his chequebook. "So, how much do you want?" he asked. "I'm assuming that given your current state, money probably means more to you than your son." From the moment he had spotted Naomi from across the room, he could tell that she was doing drugs.

"It's not for drugs," she stated, defensively. "I'm just in a bit of a state at the moment and need some time to go away and get myself together." She scratched unconsciously at her forearm. "When I'm more... more like myself again, then I'll be fit to care properly for Blair."

Taking a deep breath, Jim glared at the woman whose very presence disgusted him to the core. "You won't be seeing Blair again, Naomi, at least not until he's old enough to make that decision for himself."

"But he's my son," she stammered.

"The day you let that bastard beat and rape your son, was the day you gave up your parental rights, permanently."

Tossing a cheque across the table, Jim's chair scraped against the polished floorboards and he got to his feet, ready to leave. "Do not try and see him and do not try and make contact with him. When he's old enough, and if he wants to see you again, then we'll discuss options. But until that day comes, you stay away."

Ellison bent down and whispered in Naomi's ear. "You ever hurt him again you will rue the day you were born." He felt no remorse for Naomi's loss and the harshness of his words or actions. His parental feelings and his need to protect Blair ran high, and even though he was completely unaware of it, the sentinel's need to protect the guide ran at fever pitch.

As he left the restaurant Jim prayed that this would be the last he would ever see of Naomi Sandburg.

The End

Back to The Loft