rogue10@hotmail.com

Hey, Buddy

By Rogue


Blair grinned with relief as he walked up to the embracing Ellisons, father and son. The two of them pulled apart and glanced at him and he blinked at the almost identical stoic expressions. Then the expressions shifted, going two different ways, and Blair felt like he was watching two different Jim faces at once, only one was old and the other mid-life.

Jim saw his friend and warmth entered his eyes a bit as a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

William saw a long-haired hippie punk and frowned minutely, irritation coloring his eyes. It didn't matter that Blair had, only moments before, helped William out of the woods, offering his shoulder to brace the older man up. Still dazed, William had accepted the help, not really noticing the young man, but now he did.

Sandburg subdued the shiver that wanted to run through him as he turned his attention to his friend. "Hey, Jim! Everything okay?"

"Sure, Chief. It will be. Just need to get my father examined by the EMTs," Jim replied, his smile easing into a slightly larger one.

"Jimmy, do you really think that's necessary?" William protested almost immediately.

"Absolutely, Pops," the younger Ellison stated, his tone firm. "You were roughed up pretty good by that psycho. I want you checked out so I know you're okay."

Mollified by the concern his eldest son was showing for him, Ellison Sr. nodded. "Alright, Jimmy. If it's important, okay."

Blair grinned. "Like father, like son, huh, Jim?" he murmured sub-vocally, and was rewarded with the barest flash of a glower from the sentinel.

Just then, Simon, who had come running towards them immediately after Jim had apprehended Aaron, walked up to join them. "Mr. Ellison, I'm glad Jim got to you in time and that you're okay."

William nodded and grinned proudly. "I knew he would. My Jimmy is a good man; always does his best."

Jim looked almost pole-axed at this public display of pride from his father.

Simon and Blair exchanged glances and then Simon gestured to William's head. "You took a hard knock on your head, sir. Why don't you get yourself checked by the paramedics?"

"I just browbeat him into doing so, Captain," Jim said with a laugh. "We're going now."

"Alright. I'll handle the clean up on this end. You look after your dad. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Ellison," Simon said, extending his hand towards William.

The older man took it and shook firmly. "You as well, Captain Banks. Thank you for all the hard work."

As Simon walked away, Blair stepped forward with a shy smile, his own hand extended. "Yeah, um, I'm glad you're okay, too. Jim would've been really upset if that joker had succeeded."

William looked down at the proffered hand and frowned. "Yes. Well ... thank you for the help back there. What's your name, sonny?"

Sandburg blinked, nonplussed. "Uh ... Blair. I'm Blair Sandburg, a teaching fellow at Rainier."

"I see." It was clear from the tone of voice that William didn't see at all. He turned to his son, summarily dismissing the young man from the conversation. "Jimmy, I'm ready to have the paramedics take a look at the bump on my head."

Frowning slightly, Jim nodded. "Yeah, okay. Come on, Pops, I'll walk you over." Casting a quick glance at Blair, who was standing there silently, shocked, he said, "Sandburg, catch a ride back with Simon, will you? I'll be taking my father either home or to the hospital."

The younger man's reply of "Sure, Jim" was lost as William hooked an arm around his son's waist and began walking away, saying, "I hardly think a trip to the hospital will be necessary, Jimmy...."

Swallowing around the cold hurt that had lodged in his chest, not knowing exactly why it was there, Blair slowly turned and walked to where Simon stood, finishing up a talk with a couple of uniforms. The uniforms smiled at Blair and nodded as they turned and walked away, acknowledging him. Simon glanced down at the shorter man and sighed. He lifted his head to find Jim and found him walking away with his father. "Aren't you going with them, Sandburg?"

Blair shook his head. "No, Simon. Father/son time, you know? Jim asked me to hitch a ride back with you." Grinning as he saw that Jim's arm was around his father's shoulders, Blair slung his own arm up around Simon's upper back as the two of them began walking towards the captain's car. "Isn't that beautiful, man?"

Simon glared down and shrugged off the younger man's arm irritably. "What do you think you're doing? Get off me!"

Laughing, Sandburg said, "Come on, Simon! Just a little brotherly love."

"Do I look like your brother?"

Blair shrugged. "From a different mother."

Simon sighed, exasperated. "Don't you start with me, Sandburg. I'm telling you right now..."

Grinning, Blair put his arm up around Simon's shoulders again. "Come on, Simon..."

"Go!" the larger man snapped, shrugging him off again and pushing him away slightly as well. "Go away with your touchy-feely-ness! Sometimes I wonder just what the hell is wrong with you, Sandburg. Dammit, I've got a crime scene to clean up! Go play touch-tag with somebody else."

Blair halted in the grass, only a few yards from the curb, and watched Simon continue on alone.

The older man wasn't even aware that he'd been left alone.

Shivering again as the late autumn chill crept into him to match the freezing pain in his chest, Blair blinked rapidly as he watched Jim's truck drive off, William Ellison sitting in the passenger seat. He glanced at Simon only to find the other man embroiled in a conversation with other officers on the scene, only glancing up long enough to note that Sandburg was no longer with him and that Jim's truck was leaving, then turned back to his conversation.

Realizing that he was pretty much invisible, knowing that he didn't really want to be near anyone at that moment anyway, Blair turned and walked away across the football field, heading for the woods and the large boulder that he'd seen on another trail as he'd gone in after Jim and his father.


****


"So, Jimmy, who was that young man? Sandbag?" William asked as he rode along comfortably in his son's 1969 hayseed truck.

"Sandburg, Dad. His name is Blair Sandburg. B.A., M.A., and a doctoral candidate in the Anthropology department at Rainier," Jim replied, his attention on the road as he drove his father back home. The EMTs had declared the elder Ellison to be fine, merely bruised, and had bandaged the cut along William's hairline before sending him home.

"Really? Wouldn't know it by the way he dresses. And that long hair ... I suppose it's the 'in' thing among college kids these days, but I still don't understand it. What's he doing running around with cops? Trying to play hero and impress the co-eds?"

Anger and resentment flashed through Jim quickly, and he gripped the steering wheel tighter. His jaw tight, he shook his head. "No, Dad. He's my partner."

William's jaw dropped, his eyebrows winging up. "He's *what*?"

"He's my *partner*, Dad. He's a special consultant with the Major Crime unit. His thesis is a study of the closed society of the police force and I'm the guy he's observing. Well, that's the *official* story, anyway. Actually, he's studying my senses and he's my *Guide*. I need him with me to help me to learn how to use these things accurately, so we had to concoct a story that would get him permission to ride along with me."

"You mean he *knows* what you are?" the older man demanded.

Jim shot his father a telling look before turning his attention back to the road. "Yeah, Pops. He made it his life's goal to locate and study people like me. He found me. He guides me, supports me in learning how to control the senses. I can't do it without him. Wouldn't want to. Why?"

William ignored the query. "Who else knows?"

"My boss, for one. Simon had to be told. He's not a stupid man. He figured it out pretty quick after watching me use my senses the day Garrett Kincaid seized the station. On Blair's first day, too. We were trying to run that cockamamie story by Simon about studying the closed society of the police force for his dissertation subject. Simon wasn't too thrilled, so I told him some song and dance about Blair being a cousin from Mom's sister and how I was cutting the kid a break. He bought *that*, at least for a few hours."

"What do you mean, your mother's side of the family? Your mother was an only child; she didn't have any siblings."

"I knew that, but Simon didn't-"

"Wait, how did you know? Detective research?"

"No, Dad," Jim sighed. "I've been in touch with Mom off and on since my childhood. We've talked about lots of things."

William's jaw dropped open. Then his face went thunderous with anger. "I thought I forbade you from talking about or to your mother, ever!"

"Oh, please." Now disdain crept into the sentinel's voice. "I stopped giving a damn about what you said or did a long time before I got packed off to military school, Dad. It was obvious as hell you didn't give a damn about me."

"Don't you take that tone of voice with me, Jimmy! I'm your father!"

The younger Ellison opened his mouth to snarl back a reply, but a wave of tired swept over him and he could feel a headache beginning behind his eyes. Sighing, he said, "Why are we even *having* this conversation, anyway? You asked me about Blair, so I told you. He's my partner, my friend, and my guide. He helps me control these senses. End of story."

"Who else besides your captain and this kid know?"

Jim thought about it, then said, "Well ... there's this rogue CIA agent by the name of Brackett. He took me and Blair hostage at gunpoint - actually, he threatened Blair with a bullet to the head if I didn't cooperate as well as loosing a canister of Ebola Virus on Cascade - to help him steal a secret government experimental aircraft. He knew about my senses since my rescue in Peru nine years ago, when he debriefed the captain of the Ranger team who rescued me. He'd already read papers published by Blair when Sandburg was an under grad, theorizing about sentinels. What he learned about me from the debriefing and what he'd read from Blair's papers, he put two and two together and got four. So when he branched out as a criminal, he got us involved. Fortunately for us, we stopped him *and* kept the Ebola from being used on Cascade. *And* he's in a psych ward because he keeps insisting I'm a Sentinel. Which I am, but nobody believes."

"But somebody *could*," William said darkly.

The muscle in Jim's jaw twitched as he remained silent. He knew that someone could believe it. Lived in fear of Blair's research being published and people putting two and two together. But he had made a promise to the long-haired dynamo who shared his life with him, and he wouldn't go back on it, no matter how much he hated what he had promised to let happen.

"Jimmy-"

"Pops ... no. Okay? Just ... no. I promised Blair that in exchange for helping me control these senses, he could test them and research them and report on them. He's promised he'll keep my identity secret. That'll have to be enough."

"It *can't* be! Jimmy, that kid - good God, have you taken a good look at him? He doesn't have a lot of money, does he?" William demanded.

Jim's eyes narrowed and he glanced over at his father as he pulled the truck up in front of William's house sharply, braking, putting it into park, and turning off the ignition. "What does that have to do with it?" he snapped back.

"Everything! Good intentions are wonderful, Jimmy, but when he presents his research? He'll be rich and famous. He'll have *money*. And where are all his good intentions then? Out the window! That's what *happens* when money's involved-"

"And you would know all about that, wouldn't you?" Jim growled viciously, unable to stop the flow of words. "You know how money can seduce good people into behaving badly. You know, because it's all the world to you. It's what you gave up your family for!"

"What are you talking about? I raised you-"

"In name only, you were my father, yes. But you were always *away*, making *money* ... the only time you were around was if I needed to be *punished* for some imagined transgression; if you thought I wasn't pulling my weight. I busted my ass - *changed* myself, who I was - just to make you proud of me! For one single *moment* for you to look at me without disapproval! And you know what, Dad? That never happened. I don't remember a time when I didn't see you looking at me as if I were something you'd rather have kept locked away, out of sight and out of mind."

William went utterly pale, his eyes widening with shock. "Jimmy," he whispered hoarsely. "God, no, Jimmy. I never felt that way, never! You're my son; I love you. I've *always* loved you! I've always *wanted* you, been *proud* of you. *Always*, Jimmy!"

Haunted ice blue eyes turned to the older man and William strangled a moan in his chest as his oldest son allowed him to fully see the hurt he'd done to Jim so many years ago.

"Then why didn't you ever *say* so?" Jim whispered softly, his voice a wealth of pain.

"Oh, Jimmy..." William breathed, his chest tight with regret and other emotions. Hesitantly, he reached out to touch Jim's shoulder. When his son didn't rebuff him, he tugged firmly until Jim slumped over and the two men held each other tightly.

"I'm sorry," William whispered finally, gently patting his son's back. "I never meant to hurt you. I only wanted to give you what I thought you needed."

"I hear that, Pops," Jim whispered back, and then chuckled, hugging tightly one more time before easing back.

The older Ellison was staring at him like he'd grown a new head. "You what, Jimmy?"

Jim laughed, his entire face creasing with the relief of tension and emotion, his eyes bright and shiny. "I said, 'I hear that'. It's a ... a *hippie* thing, Pops." At William's incredulous look, he laughed again. "I learned it from Sandburg's mom. She's a tall redhead that never outgrew the sixties. The last of her kind, a bona fide Flower-child. First time I met her, she used that phrase. Blair had to explain it to me. It means accepting what a person has to say without judgement. Think of it as part of a code language amongst hippies."

William was silent for a moment, then surprised his son with a smile and a short chuckle. "Your partner - and his family - sound like a wild bunch. You have a few minutes, Jimmy? You could come inside, have some coffee, and tell me all about how you got hooked up with that kid."

Jim's first, immediate response was to say "no", that he had to go and do something else somewhere. Anywhere, but be here with the father who had shocked him and riled his emotions so many times in one day. But he paused, hearing his partner's voice in his head, urging him to talk with his father. So he took a deep breath, held it, then let it out and smiled at his father and said, "Yeah, Dad. That sounds good. I can talk for a little while."

William smiled brilliantly. "Good. Good, Jimmy. Come on in, son."

"Thanks, Pops."


****


Several hours later, Jim entered the loft as twilight was beginning and frowned.

He'd come home, feeling satisfied for the first time in a long time where his father was concerned, intending to share the good news with his Good Samaritan of a partner.

Only to discover that the loft was empty and apparently had been for hours.

*This doesn't make sense. His car is downstairs and I told him to catch a ride with Simon. Hmm. Maybe he asked to be dropped off at the University.*

Picking up the loft's cordless phone, he dialed Blair's office, but it rang for a long time before Jim understood that the younger man wouldn't be picking it up. He then tried dialing Blair's cell phone, only to hang up the instant he heard the corresponding trill coming from Blair's bedroom, and sighed as he realized that Blair had, once again, forgotten to take his phone with him, wherever he'd gone.

*Hmph. He doesn't have any classes to either teach or take tonight; he's got all the grading done ahead of schedule for once so he's not off doing that. Maybe he left a message on the machine...?*

Walking over, still wearing his coat, Jim pressed the "play" button on the answering machine. His frown deepened when he heard messages from three different sales callers, two female TA's wanting Blair to contact them about going out some evening that week, and a message from one of his own female friends wanting to know if he, Jim, would like to go out some evening that week.

But no message from Blair.

Snatching up the phone again, Jim hurriedly dialed Simon's home number, hoping his captain had gone home. When that didn't work, he dialed the captain's office and after two rings, the line was opened.

"Captain Banks," came the familiar rough growl.

"Simon, it's Jim."

"Jim! Hey, great. You get your father taken care of? How is he?"

"Yes, sir, he's fine. I stayed a few hours at the house, talking with him for a bit. We cleared the air about a few things. Listen, I'm calling because I'm here at the loft, but it doesn't look like Sandburg's been here at all. Where did you drop him off?"

There was a moment of silence that sharpened the dread in Jim's stomach in less than a nanosecond.

"Simon?"

"I didn't drop him off anywhere, Jim," was the quiet reply. "He never rode back with me."

Jim felt his teeth ache with the force of the jaw clench that resulted from the announcement. He forced himself to relax physically and snapped, "What do you mean, he didn't ride back with you? I told him to catch a ride with you!"

"I know, Jim, I know," Simon groaned. "But he ... oh, hell."

"Simon." It was a warning growl to not delay the information the sentinel needed.

"I guess I frightened him off, Jim. He was being playful, putting an arm around me, joking around. Trying to imitate the way you walked off with your father, you know? I kind of, well, blew up at him."

"You *what*?"

"I lost my temper, Jim. I'm not like you; I can't handle being touched constantly by that hyperactive screwball. You know I like the kid, he's great, but ... anyway, I said something along the lines of wondering what the hell was wrong with him and told him to go play touch-tag with someone else while I cleaned up the crime scene. I never saw him again after that. I guess I assumed he'd caught a ride back with someone else."

"*Dammit*, Simon!" Jim roared, pacing off a quick, violent circuit into the kitchen and back out again. "How could you do that to him?! He was just playing!"

"Well, forgive me, Detective, but I wasn't in the *mood* to play and I let him *in* on that fact politely enough the *first* time. I lost my temper with him because he wasn't taking the *hint*. I admit I shouldn't have been so spiteful, but I'm not exposed to him constantly like you are. I only see him once, twice a week unless we're having a heavy caseload. You're constantly exposed to him; you've developed a tolerance."

"And you haven't. Guess that cancels out what I told him," Jim said bitterly.

"Cancels what? Jim, what did you tell him?" Simon demanded.

"Back during the Chopec fiasco, when my old shaman, Incacha, was here, and I had apparently lost my senses. Remember? Anyway, Blair and I had just gotten that last call from Janet Meyers, his old girlfriend. We were on our way to meet her, fifteen minutes, late. We got into this discussion about why I should try to get my sentinel senses back. One of the arguments he gave was that you wouldn't let our partnership continue if there was no legitimate reason for him to be there."

"Besides the fact that he can type reports faster than the speed of light, pull out obscure anthropological facts that invariably save the day, and keeps you from reverting to Bad Ass Ellison, Champion Grump?" Simon teased.

"Yeah, besides that," Jim grumbled, though a smile threatened. Anyway, I told him that you might, because you had developed kind of an abiding tolerance for him." His bad mood returned full force as he added, "Now I understand that doubtful look he gave me."

"Jim-"

"Guess he knows where he stands with you."

"Jim-"

"Given that you've hurt him and driven him into pulling a disappearing act."

"Jim-!"

"With all due respect, sir, I don't know what you were in a previous life, but you're dead meat in this one."

"That's *enough*, Ellison!" the captain roared. "I'm *sorry* I hurt the kid's feelings, okay? I never *meant* to. I've developed more than an 'abiding tolerance' for him and if you *ever* clue him in to that fact, I'll have you doing special duty for the Mayor so fast your head will spin!"

"No, sir!"

"Good," Banks grumbled, then sighed. "I'll apologize to him face to face as soon as we find him, but first, we have to find him. Jim, it's getting *dark*. There aren't any messages from him? He's not at Rainier?"

"No, Simon. I don't know-wait. He ... Simon, I think he might still be there at the field," Jim said softly.

"What? You're not serious, Jim!"

"Yeah. Blair's always so curious about my past. He might have stayed there for several reasons, that being one of them as well as you hurting his feelings, but I'm willing to bet dollars to donuts that he's still at the field."

"Fine. Why don't you go check it out and then call me if you know one way or the other."

"Yes, sir," Jim replied, and turned off the cordless, putting it back in its cradle.

A moment later, he grabbed up his keys, his wallet still in his pocket and his cell phone hooked to his belt and jacket still on, and went striding out the door, locking and slamming it shut behind him.

It only took ten minutes to get out to the field and Jim went striding across the field in the deepening twilight, his eyes and ears and nose dialed up, searching for a trace of his guide and friend. As he neared the treeline that led to the old murder place, he heard Blair's heart and smelled the distinct scent of the younger man.

Pulling out his cell phone, he paused to dial Simon's number.

"Banks."

"Yeah, Simon, it's Jim," the sentinel said, smiling slightly. He could hear the distinct edge of worry lacing his captain's tone. "I'm at the field. He's here."

A rough sigh, and then, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir. I can hear his heartbeat from where I'm standing and I can smell him. It's him alright."

"Good, good. Go get him, chew him out for scaring us half to death, and then take him home."

"I doubt he'd be out here if it weren't for a certain bit of foul temper from someone who shall remain nameless, sir."

"See that it remains that way, hmmm?" Simon said with false cheerfulness. "Just get him out of there and get him home, okay? Tell him I want to see him in my office tomorrow morning."

"Should I tell him to expect your equivalent of groveling, Simon?"

"Is Sandburg our Mayor all of a sudden, Ellison? Have I missed something? Because the Mayor's butt is the only one I kiss and you know it!"

Jim laughed. "Right, right. I'll have him in your office tomorrow morning, I promise. Good night, Simon."

"Night, Jim. Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Don't think you're off the hook with *me* for hurting my partner, Simon."

"Jim-"

"He's *necessary* to me, Simon. You know that. I don't tolerate it very well when someone hurts him, not even if it's you."

"I understand, Jim. Knock off the overprotective big brother schtick, all right? I'll see you both tomorrow."

"Very good. G'night, Simon."

They hung up and Jim tucked his cell phone back onto his belt and then headed into the woods. Tracking the sound of his guide's heartbeat, he veered from the original path until he entered a small clearing where a huge boulder that had been there for centuries sat. And perched atop that boulder was Blair Sandburg.

Relief at finding his young partner flooded the sentinel as he walked forward, crunching softly through the fallen autumn leaves, and then began scrambling up onto the huge rock.

***

Blair tensed when he heard someone approaching, but a moment later, he relaxed again. Somehow, without knowing exactly *how*, he knew it was his partner, his sentinel, finding him at last.

When the larger man settled gently onto the stone beside him, his heat source welcome against the chilled smaller man, Blair smiled slightly and said softly, "Hey, man."

"Hey, buddy."

They were silent for a little while longer and then Jim asked quietly, "It's getting pretty dark, Chief. Don't you think it's time we headed on home?"

"I suppose," Blair replied, but made no move to unfold himself from his chosen position.

Another few moments of silence and then Jim prodded him with, "Wanna tell me what you've been thinking about all this time?"

The younger man snorted and kept his eyes directed downwards. "Sure you want me to tell you? You're usually begging me to shut up."

"Only when it's not really important. Otherwise ... yeah, I'd like for you to talk to me. Are you out here because of what Simon said?"

"How do you know about that?"

Jim tracked a falling leaf with his eyesight, then glanced over at his decidedly subdued partner. "I called him when I couldn't find you. He confessed pretty quickly."

Blair grinned, a quick flash of humor, and then let it fade. "What he said wasn't criminal, man. Nothing to 'confess' to."

"Except that he hurt my partner ... my best friend. The guy who means everything to me; who's my brother in everything but blood," Jim said softly, his gaze intense.

"Really? What's his name, man?" Blair asked, a trifle bitterly, a bit sadly.

Jim sighed, exasperated, and he reached out to gently cuff the shorter man's head. "*You*, numbskull! I'm talking about *you*!"

Blair ducked the slap and then turned wide, anxious, uncertain eyes on his sentinel. "Really? Jim ... *really*?"

His expression softening, Jim nodded. "Really, Sandburg. You don't think I'd lie to you about that, do you, Blair?"

The younger man shrugged and glanced away.

"Chief." Jim's voice held a hint of hurt in it.

"No," Blair murmured. "I don't think you'd lie about it. But ... maybe an obfuscation or two, trying to cheer me up..."

Jim snorted, then reached out and draped an arm around his friend's shoulder, hauling him up close beside him. "Chief, not even for you would I *obfuscate*. You know how important friendship is to me. I mean what I say; you're the best. You're everything. It's like ... like ... we're soulmates, buddy. Like I've been missing a piece of me for so long ... until you came. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Swallowing back tears that threatened to spill over, Blair leaned into his friend. "Yeah. Because I feel the same way. You're my best friend, too, man. The true brother I never had. I've been lonely for so long ... but then you were there and now ... I can't imagine my life without you, you know? Friends for life, no matter what."

"Yeah, Chief, exactly. No matter what," Jim said, relieved, and he gave in to impulse and pressed a tiny, quick kiss to the top of his friend's head.

They were silent for a little while and then Blair nudged gently at the older man's ribs. "I think it's time we went home, Jim. I'm cold, and you can't be too comfortable yourself."

"Sounds like a plan."

Darkness had descended with the moonlight only a dim glow through the woods. Jim carefully climbed down off the boulder, then turned to help his guide down. Once Blair was on the ground with him, he reached out and took hold of one of the younger man's hands, gripping it tightly.

"I can see better than you can right now, Chief, so let me lead the way out," he said. "Just stick close to me, okay?"

"Always, man," Blair replied, his voice warm and confident, giving the words deeper meaning.

Jim stared down at his friend for a long moment, every detail clear to him, and then he grinned, his teeth flashing brightly in the semi-darkness.

"Good, Blair. Real good," he said softly, and then turned to begin leading them out of the darkness and back to the comfort and safety of home.


The End