Title: Time to Decide
Author: Dusty Tyree
Rating: PG
Summary: Extra scene from TSByBS. Decision time for Blair.
Warnings: None
Feedback: Welcome, on or off list.
Disclaimer: This is an amateur story written purely for the enjoyment of fans. The characters do not belong to me. No copyright infringement intended to Pet Fly, or any other individuals or companies concerned.

Time to Decide
by Dusty Tyree

Megan Connor heaved an exasperated sigh. That went well, she thought, getting these two to talk to each other was not going to be easy. She was starting to get really worried about the two men standing nearby, physically, a mere few feet, but who seemed a country-length away from each other, emotionally.

That worry became intensified later at the station.

After booking in the thief, she and Ellison had caught robbing the jewellery store, she was walking towards the bullpen a few yards behind Blair, who was about the same distance behind his partner, when one of the uniformed cops came towards them; he passed by Ellison without comment, but as he came abreast of Sandburg, he deliberately knocked into the smaller man, banging him up against the wall and Blair's curly head hit the wall with an audible thud.

"Ow." Blair's surprised grunt made Jim turn, and he took a step forward, then paused, as if undecided.

"Look where you're going, you little punk," snarled the man, whose name tag identified him as Officer Murray.

"Hey," cried Megan. "Stop that, you bumped into him."

"What's it to you,"` said Murray snidely. "You taking on being the baby-sitter now?"

"Why you..." Connor started forward, but Sandburg stepped between them, one hand still rubbing the back of his aching head.

"It's okay, Megan. An asshole like him's not worth getting Captain Banks riled for fighting in the corridor." He glanced over at the uniformed cop, whose face had gone red with anger at the smaller man's dismissive tone. "Besides I can take care of myself."

"You smart-mouthed..." Murray started forward again, then paused as Ellison's voice cut into the air like a knife.

"Connor...leave it. Murray you get back downstairs where you belong."

"Right," snarled Murray. "At least I belong here, which is more than this little shit does."

He turned and walked away, leaving a strained silence behind him.

Ellison's eyes met Connor's for an instant, then glanced at Sandburg, but he didn't say a word, merely turning to walk into the bullpen.

Sandburg's face had gone white at the spiteful comment, and Megan put her arm round his shoulders, only to have it shrugged off.

"Sandy.. you okay?"

"Oh just Peachy," said Blair, his voice dull, and without it's usual warmth.

"Don't mind that arsehole, you belong here far more than he does, the ignorant twerp."

Sandburg's lips twitched in a parody of his usual smile. "There are some who wouldn't agree with that remark, Megan."

He didn't have to look at Jim's straight and rigid back to show her who
he was talking about.

Connor glanced round at Jim waiting for him to say something - anything, to help her reassure her friend, but Jim didn't look back and disappeared through the door to Major Crime.

Following a few seconds later, Sandburg went straight to Jim's desk and rummaged through the drawer which he used as his own, until he found some aspirin, and swallowed the pills dry. Then he switched on the computer to finish off the reports he'd started that morning.
Jim hung up his coat, then picked up some files and was reading them on his own side of the desk. Neither man looked, or spoke to the other.

Megan hesitated, obviously wanting to say something else, then realising that she might just make things worse, went to her own desk.

For a while, the usual noises of men and women talking, phones ringing, people moving from desk to filing cabinets, sounded throughout the big office, normal even in the strained circumstances of recent events.

Blair normally would be exchanging comments, insults and generally being his usual gregarious self, but no-one was talking to either him, or Jim. He was beginning to miss the comradely atmosphere already. He knew that most of the men and women in the office were puzzled as to how and what had actually happened, but the coldness emanating from Jim was a deterrent to casual conversation.

A short time later, he blinked as the screen shimmered in front of his eyes. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to swallow the nausea which swirled over him. It was just nerves he told himself, just sheer nervous reaction.

Barely hanging on, he managed to log off the computer, which would've set Jim off again if he'd left an open file, and got to his feet. Trying not
to run, he made his way out of the office before he made a fool of himself.

He made it to the Mens' room before he lost what little food was in his stomach and afterwards wearily washed his hands, then splashed cold water on his face.

He couldn't do this... he couldn't take the anger and the hate which was thrown at him from all sides. If only Jim and he were talking, things would be different. Over the past few years, he thought he'd made some headway; had shown not only his friends in Major Crimes, but in the other departments as well, that he made a significant contribution to the day-to-day work at the Precinct. Hell, even Simon had said so, albeit on very rare occasions. With Jim's friendship and support he'd been able to ignore the bigots and bullies like Murray, who from the very beginning had seemed to make it their personal job to make things uncomfortable and hard for him.

Well, from now on he was on his own.

Sure, Megan seemed to want to stand by him, and he had grown to like the Australian detective, but he couldn't hide behind her skirts, even if he'd been the type of coward Murray and his friends thought he was.

He stared at his face in the mirror; he looked as bad as he felt.
His eyes looked haunted, dull and without any spark at all. Dark smudges under his eyes, his skin was pale, making the stubble on his chin look black, almost dirty.

Dirty! That was the word. He felt dirty, as if he'd been dragged
through a particularly noxious garbage dump.

Why? He hadn't done anything wrong. He nodded at his reflection;
he'd written his dissertation, the culmination of his adult life's work. Writing it had left him with a feeling of satisfaction, but also almost hollow. What would he do now?

Yes, he'd get his doctorate, become a fully fledged professor, teach
the subject he loved. He'd probably get offers to go on important expeditions to explore ancient cultures. Now, though, he wasn't so sure it was what he wanted, he'd grown to like working here with Jim, Simon, and the others, but he couldn't see that happening now.
Jim hated him, blamed him for betraying him; but surely he knew that Blair hadn't deliberately allowed Naomi to mail his work to that damned publisher. He'd tried to stop them, but nothing he'd said to either Syd,
or even Naomi, had seemed to make an impression; he'd told them his work wasn't to be published, yet they'd ignored his words, as though he was a child who couldn't be trusted to know his own mind.

Well, that was going to stop, right here and right now.

He was going to have to do something, something that would make them HAVE to listen to him. He didn't want to hurt his mother, Blair
knew she was trying to help him, but Naomi had to learn, like everyone else, that Blair was an adult and could make his own decisions.

Decisions! Yes, that was what he needed to do.

Why was he hanging on here? Jim certainly didn't want him around,
and despite his liking and respect for Simon, Joel, Megan, H and Rafe, Jim was the only one that really mattered to Blair.

He could slip out of Jim's life, out of the Precinct and hide his face away; but why the hell should he? He hadn't done anything wrong; yes, he had used Jim's name in his manuscript, but that had been private, he didn't know that Naomi would send it to a publisher of all people. He could be accused of naiveté in that respect, but not of any deliberate wrongdoing.

His thoughts churned round and round, he couldn't make them stop long enough for him to make a decision. A very important decision.

What was best for him... and what was best for Jim.

* * * *

Megan's mood had deteriorated even more as she'd seen Blair hurry out of the bullpen, his face ashen, mouth clamped shut against the sickness she knew he must be feeling.

She went across to Ellison's desk and leaned over him as he worked on his own files.

"Don't you think you should go and see if Sandy's okay? He must have a helluva headache."

Jim looked up, his face without expression, cold and withdrawn.

A shoulder shrugged. "He's been sick before...he'll be okay."

"You sonofabitch," hissed Megan. "All of a sudden, your friend means nothing."

He didn't answer and looked back at his files.

Megan had to stop herself from lashing out with her fist and knocking that expression clean off the coldly handsome face in front of her.

"So, it's open season on Sandburg, all the bigots and bullies will be coming out of the woodwork, that little 'shove' was only the start..."

"Connor, give it a rest. It's none of your business."

"It should be all our business when someone is being victimised."

"It's his choice. All he has to do is leave and go back to being an academic, his ride- a-long is over."

"Maybe Simon will have something to say about that."

"My decision who rides with me," said Jim flatly and logged onto his computer and started to type in some data.

"All the times that Sandy has helped you, you're just going to cut him loose without even a token regret?"

"Connor!"

"I'm curious, Jim. I thought this loyalty thing was a two-way street, obviously I was wrong."

Simon had seen the two detectives through his window and identified Jim's building aggression. That was the last thing he needed right now, a confrontation between these two in the bullpen.

He opened his door and yelled. "Ellison, my office. Connor, don't you have work to do?"

Jim got to his feet, glaring at the female detective, and stalked into his Captain's office, leaving Megan to wave a hand in acknowledgement and go back to her own desk.

As soon as the door to Simon's office closed behind the tall figure of the Sentinel, Megan slipped out into the corridor and made her way to the Mens' toilet facilities.

She cautiously opened the door and was glad to see that the only occupant was Blair. Not that she would've been embarrassed, but maybe Blair would be. He was leaning on one of the hand-basins, wiping his pale face with a paper towel. He looked awful.

He jumped in shock as he saw Megan through the mirror and turned towards her, eyebrows climbing in mock horror.

"Hey Megan," he whispered, peering furtively over his shoulders at the empty stalls. "This is the Mens' bathroom...you lost?"

"No, just wanted to check whether you were okay." Megan grinned slightly, appreciating the young man's try at humour, but too worried to let it continue.

"As fine as possible under the circumstances," Blair shrugged, dropping his assumed levity.

"Sandy, I'm sorry...about everything."

"Not your fault, so don't be sorry."

"Jim is an idiot to think you'd do something like this on purpose."

"Megan. Don't. I appreciate you trying to help, but there are things going on here that are strictly between Jim and me."

"You're still protecting him, aren't you, after the way he's been treating you since... since that damn woman."

"I'm his Guide," muttered Blair in a low voice. "That's what I'm supposed to do."

"He's supposed to protect you, as well, or have I been reading this Sentinel thing the wrong way?"

"Leave it, Megan." Blair's voice was firm.

"Sandy....I just want to help."

"I know, but you see," Blair raised tormented blue eyes. "You can't. No-one else can. We have to work through this."

"You think Jim will want to talk, after the way he's been behaving?"

Blair shrugged. He wasn't sure about that. One thing was clear to him: if he and Jim couldn't get past this, their friendship would be over.

* * * *
In Captain Banks' office, Simon was trying to get Jim to unwind enough to tell him what was going on.

"What was all that about with Connor? And where is Sandburg?"

Jim shrugged a broad shoulder. "Nothing, Captain. Just Connor and me butting heads as usual."

"It looked like more than that."

Simon waited, and Jim shrugged. "She thought I should go after Blair, I told her he was fine."

Simon's eyebrow rose almost to his hairline. "Fine? I've seen Sandburg at his best and worst, and he is definitely not fine."

"What do you want me to do, Captain. Go hold his hand while he pukes up his lunch? No thanks." Jim was barely holding his temper in check.

Simon looked his detective over and realised more than Jim was letting on.

"No, maybe not," he conceded, "but maybe just seeing how he was doing, wouldn't have hurt your delicate sensibilities."

"I've got a killer to find, Captain. I haven't time to go looking for someone who shouldn't be here in the first place."

Simon reared back in his chair. "Well, well, you've changed your tune, Ellison. There was a time, not too long ago, when you insisted that Blair be here, to help you control your senses."

Jim's face became stone-like. "That was then, before he betrayed..." He paused, and clamped down on his tongue. "Will that be all, Sir?" he asked almost politely.

Simon nodded slowly. "For the moment..."

Jim did an abrupt turn and went out of the office, going straight back to his desk, where he logged on to his computer, then stared at the screen.

He didn't see the screen saver flashing, he saw Blair's face as he sat in this same chair, helping him with his paperwork; saw the kid's white face as he straightened up from Murray's deliberate push; saw the pain in those expressive eyes that wasn't all physical.

He saw Blair laughing when he hooked his first fish, the damp curls escaping from under that awful hat; the times they'd sat together on the couch sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching a football game.. he saw Blair hurt and bleeding in that clearing when he'd been chasing Quinn; saw him bound with chains in that awful dentist chair... the horrible day at the fountain.

Jim closed his eyes as the images kept coming. He shook his head, deliberately trying to change his focus.

He brought to mind the face of that reporter sticking a microphone in his face and asking about his sentinel abilities; the look of shocked horror on Blair's face... his own unyielding anger at what he'd thought was betrayal of the worst kind.

He could make that anger work now, he had to find this sniper before he killed the union man, obnoxious though he may be.

He'd have to deal with the rest once the Iceman was caught.

* * * *

Blair came back into the bullpen, picked up his backpack and left again without a word to anyone.

He needed space and quiet to think; he couldn't do it here, where Jim's silent presence kept him from concentrating. Usually Jim's solid presence meant safety, but the coldness that surrounded him now, chilled Blair to the bone.

No, there was no warmth, or safety here today.

Would there ever be again?

He needed to make the right decision.

Dusty Tyree
(c) April 2007