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by
Level IV: Swimming With The Sharks
December
Blair handed Simon a folder. "Inside is a detailed account of the last drug transaction and the outline for the next one. Also, Jim was able to get a couple more names. Of course, at the moment he's merely matching these people with their voices, but he's hoping to get hard evidence on them soon."
Simon flipped through the file, impressed with his detective's work. "They trust him with all this information?"
"He's doing most of the planning himself, Simon. The Order likes his style, how he organizes and executes operations. Said they needed someone with military training from the beginning."
"The Order?"
Blair rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's what they call themselves, an order of entrepreneurs. In my opinion, they are no better than the South Americans who are supplying the drugs."
"By the way, how do they feel about Jim?"
"As long as he didn't want to cut their money or decrease the amount shipped in, they are okay with it. In fact, I think they are relieved that someone with the necessary skill took over this end of the operation. The sloppiness would have eventually affected business."
Simon looked at the report in his hand and had to agree with them. If he was into something illegal, he'd like a mind like Jim's coordinating it. Damn, the man was almost too good. The captain shivered at the thought of what it would have been like if Jim Ellison had ended up on the wrong side of the law. "I didn't realize how devious, nor how dangerous your partner could be," he said softly. To protect the Order, Jim had set up Seacoast to be the point of arrival only. From there the cargo was trucked to three other centers somewhere outside the city. There it was to be processed and/or sold or distributed to other processing centers. What the Order didn't know was that each of the three centers was a tightly controlled DEA operation."This is set for Christmas Eve?"
"Who's going to notice or care what's going on at the docks then, Simon? I'm just glad he didn't set it up for Christmas Day," Blair added, grateful for Jim's decision. Christmas without his friends was bad enough, but without his partner, it would have been too much to bear.
"You guys doing anything special?"
Blair scowled. "Commander Mallory is coming over for dinner."
Simon looked at him. "The commander has been mentioned prominently lately in your reports. What gives?"
Blair squirmed uncomfortably. "He likes me," he said softly.
"He what?"
"He likes me, Simon, and Jim too. According to Jim, we're a substitute family for the one that left him when he got caught up in gambling. So he likes to stop by, eat dinner, watch TV, that sort of stuff. Jim says we should encourage him because he knows quite a bit about the Order. That means I'm cooking a turkey for Christmas and using Mallory's grandmother's recipe for the stuffing. I guess it's the least I can do. After all, he gave me a gift for every night of Hanukkah."
"He what?"
Blair laughed. "You're starting to repeat yourself, man. I told you he likes me. He wants me to call him Mal."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"It weirded me out in the beginning. But Jim has made it clear to him that I'm off-limits. Mallory can look, but he can't touch."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
Blair shrugged. "Nothing Jim hasn't made clear to a hundred or so criminals in the past, captain. Just my Blessed Protector doing his thing."
That was true, Simon thought. He'd seen Jim glare at many a prisoner who eyed Sandburg the wrong way. He'd even been the recipient of the glare a time or two when he'd come down hard on the kid. "You know, I hate to admit this, but it's going to seem strange not stopping by the loft on Christmas Day. It's something Daryl and I had gotten used to."
Blair jumped up and ran out to the car, then came back in with a shopping bag. "Thanks for reminding me, Simon. We have gifts for you and Daryl... and the others as well. We know we can't give them to them yet, but if you'd hang onto them for us, we'd be grateful."
"Sure, Sandburg. You know you and Jim didn't have to go to all this trouble. Everybody will understand when you get back."
"We know, Simon, but... It's like you said. It's strange not being at the loft for the holidays. Shopping for you guys just made it a little more bearable," Blair admitted.
"Well, in that case..." Simon went behind the sofa and drew out his own bag. "From me and my son. Daryl said even if you weren't friends with me anymore, that he was still your friend."
"He doesn't know?"
Simon shrugged. "I haven't told him, but I think he suspects. Hell, I think there are several members of Major Crimes who have suspicions as well. At first, they wouldn't have anything to do with me, figured I should have been able to do something to keep you and Jim from leaving. Why they think I have so much power--"
"You're our fierce leader, Simon," Blair said with a grin. "We all know you can move mountains with the thunder of your voice."
"Yeah, right. But it can't do a thing about getting you men to move your asses when I need you to," Simon scoffed.
"Maybe we aren't as bright as the mountain."
"I'll buy that," Simon replied with an evil grin. "Anyway, sometime in the middle of September, they started inviting me back to the poker games. And Jim's desk, which had become the resting place for lost mugs and files, suddenly was cleaned and dusted."
"Good thing. Jim would have a fit if he found coffee cup circles on his desk," Blair pointed out.
"Don't have to worry about that. They won't even let anyone perch on the corner. It's like some sacred spot in the bullpen." Simon smiled sadly. "They miss you, both of you."
Blair nodded. "I'll be glad when I can tell them the feeling was mutual." He looked at his watch. "I gotta go, man, or Jim'll have a cow waiting for me. Merry Christmas, captain."
"Yeah, Sandburg. Merry Christmas to you too."
*****
"I thought I'd be the first one up, man," Blair said as he rose Christmas morning to find Jim already awake and sitting on the sofa, coffee in hand. "You didn't get in till late because of yesterday's operation."
"Just some loose ends I had to clear up. The whole thing went smoothly," Jim replied, watching the lights blink on the tree. "I like the angel," he said about the lady who graced the top of the evergreen.
"Your students have good taste," Blair agreed. It had been a gift from Jim's seminar participants, most of whom had already signed up for next semester's offering.
"My students," Jim repeated. "The latter part of this year has just been too weird, Chief. Do we even know who we are anymore? I mean, I'm coordinating drug shipments and making sure that the Order, my Order, gets its proper cut. I have two classes to teach the upcoming semester. Instead of working investigations, I'm shuffling papers and whining to the upper administration that I need this or that. And instead of my commanding officer being just a good friend, he's a good friend who's coveting my 'spouse.' I think we stepped into a mirror, Chief, and came out on another side."
Blair plopped down beside him on the sofa. "The thing to focus on, Jim, is that we stepped through it together, man. No matter which side we're on, we are not alone."
"I focus on that every day, Chief."
Blair watched the worry lines disappear from Jim's face and smiled. "Now that that's out of the way, we can get to the good stuff."
"And that would be?" Jim asked as if he didn't already know.
"The presents, man! The presents!"
*****
January
"So you're saying there's no such thing as a thin blue line?" Jerry Smythe argued.
Jim said on the edge of his desk and faced all his students. "No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm telling you that no such rule exists anywhere on paper and that it never has. It was a defense mechanism started back at a time when the cops were considered the enemy."
"You mean like now. Present company excluded, of course," Neal Michaels broke in to add.
"Thank you, Mr. Michaels. I'm honored by your devotion to me," Jim quipped and the class laughed, including Neal.
"So you're saying it's up to the individual officer to decide whether to snitch on a fellow officer or not?" Jerry continued.
"Well, using the word 'snitch' tells me your opinion of this, Mr. Smythe. And while it may be very clear in your mind sitting here in this classroom, I assure you, it will not be that simple when you face it on the job," Jim told him, then looked to the back of the room quickly as he sensed someone familiar approaching.
"But won't the other cops be like your frat? You don't sell out your brothers, man," Andre Dennison said flatly.
"No matter their crime?" Jim argued. "What if you found a cop dealing to elementary kids? Or knew one had beaten a suspect to death? Or murdered his wife?" The room was silent and Jim looked at his watch. "Think about this over the weekend and we'll discuss it next Tuesday. Have a good one." There was a series of goodbyes.
"Damn. Wish I'd taken a class like this one before I became a cop," Commander Mallory said as he strolled toward the desk. "Making them face the hard questions early, are you?"
Jim shook his head. "Nah. They won't really face it until they actually get into a situation. I just want to take some of the anxiety out of it when they do. Something happening, Mal? Or are you here thinking about taking some classes?"
"Maybe I should," he replied sadly. "Anyway, you've been summoned and as usual, I'm your designated driver."
"This early in the day? How can everyone meet at this hour?"
Mallory shook his head. "Not everyone. I guess you could call this a command performance."
Jim tried to curtail his excitement. Did this mean he was finally going to find out who the mysterious eighth person was? So far he had matched every voice to someone and the highest-ranking member had thus far been the mayor. But he had known the silent eighth person was the real leader. Well, actually, he may as well say eighth man because he was starting to notice a difference in men and women's heartbeats. Women, even when relaxed, had a faster pulse-rate than men and this guy was so calm during the meetings in the interrogation room that it was scary. How do you plan the arrival and distribution of several hundred kilos of drugs, drugs that you know kill and destroy, without your pulse-rate going up even a little?
"I have lunch plans with Blair," he said, knowing better than to go off with Mallory without alerting anyone. "Let me just stop by his office--"
"Sorry, Jim. We don't have time."
"Okay. Mr. Smythe," Jim called out to his student who was still loitering in the hall. "You know where Professor Sandburg's office is, don't you?" Blair was TA'ing a couple of classes this semester and was already quite popular on the campus. "Would you mind telling him I can't make lunch? I have to leave with the commander."
"Sure thing, lieutenant. My next class is in the Anthro building anyway."
Jim waved his thanks and walked out beside Mallory. "You work well with them and you seem to have their respect," the commander remarked as they made their way through the crowd of students, some of whom called out greetings to their favorite lieutenant.
Jim shrugged. "After living with Blair all these years, I'm comfortable around the students and I think that helps." He looked up at the sky. "I think we'll have snow before the day ends. I better take my car to the garage and have chains put on."
"I'll have somebody take it there while we're gone," Mallory offered as he drove through the crowded streets of Seacoast, heading into the uptown region. "You think you and Blair can come to dinner at my place tonight? I have some steaks... or would Blair prefer a salad?"
"He hasn't had his weekly allotment of red meat yet, so I think a steak would be fine with him," Jim said easily. "Thanks for the offer."
"I envy you and Blair, Jim. You have a very unique relationship. Look at how well you know each other. You know if he's eaten red meat this week. You're comfortable accepting a dinner invitation for him. Not many couples are that much at ease with each other."
"Then maybe they shouldn't be couples," Jim said distractedly as Mallory turned into the parking garage of one of the high-rise office buildings in the "better" part of town. "Should I have closed my eyes or something?" he asked, wondering where his usual blindfold was. Not that it did any good. He had long since used his senses to figure out they were meeting in the condemned building that used to be the department's central headquarters until the money from the drug dealings had bought them the ultra-modern facility downtown.
"No more of those games for you, Jim. Everyone was really impressed at how well the Christmas Eve operation went and you've won some powerful admirers. That's probably what this meeting is about," Mallory said as he led Jim to a private elevator. Although there were no indicators in the car, Jim counted fifteen floors before they stopped.
The doors slid open and a white-haired distinguished gentleman faced them. "Good morning, senator," Mallory said politely.
"Wait downstairs," the man said dismissingly. Then he looked at Jim. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"
"No, sir."
The man smiled and motioned him to a seat. "Good. I would be suspicious if you were too familiar with Oregon politics."
"Sir, I'm not even sure if I could tell you who the governor is. I haven't been here long enough to care," Jim admitted.
"Another good answer, lieutenant. Let me introduce myself then. I'm Bryce Morgan, III, state senator for the twelfth district." He held out his hand.
"Nice to meet you, sir," Jim said and obediently took the hand. The pulse running through the palm clasped in his led him to focus on the heartbeat and he knew he was face to face with the mysterious eighth man. No wonder the Order didn't fear the state police.
"You've done some fine work for our organization, Lt. Ellison," Morgan began. "It sorely needed the discipline and vision you've brought to our efforts. Our profit margins have been going up while our costs have been coming down since you've corrected our 'ineptness'. We are in your debt, sir."
Jim debated which angle he should take with the man-- grovel at the praise or show just a hint of dissatisfaction? Quite frankly, he never thought he could pull the groveling off. "It wasn't as if I had much of a choice. It was either straighten up the mess or be swept out with it. Federal brooms can cause serious ruts, sir."
"You know that the blackmail threat is no longer over your head?"
"It will continue to be a threat, sir, until I am no longer with Blair Sandburg. Therefore, it will always be a threat."
"Not if we say your personal life does not matter. We are a powerful group, Jim. I may call you Jim?"
The politeness almost made him nauseous. "Of course, senator."
"I have a question for you, Jim. Did you really threaten to slit our throats if we had hurt your friend?"
Jim laughed. "Is that what Mallory told you? Rather melodramatic, isn't it?"
"So you didn't imply you worked covert operations for the Army and that you would kill us if we harmed young Mr. Sandburg?" Morgan reiterated with a frown.
"Oh, I did that, sir. I just didn't specify what method." Morgan smiled. What the hell's going on here, Jim thought nervously.
"So you are not a stranger to killing?"
"What soldier is, sir?"
"You ever do any mercenary work?"
Oh, shit. "Since the government paid faithfully at the end of every month, I guess you could say it was all mercenary work, senator."
Morgan stood and Jim followed suit. "I'm impressed with your answers, Jim. I may have some 'work' for you in the future. Would you be interested?"
"I have an anniversary coming up in a few months, senator. To be able to afford a nice trip somewhere, say Hawaii or Tahiti, would probably make up to Blair for all the long hours I have to put in," Jim hedged, making no definite agreement.
"I hope the two of you enjoy yourselves," Morgan said as he turned the key to call the private elevator. "You know, despite my election rhetoric, I have nothing against you people. But the American public seems to be buying into this 'family values' crap, so I go with the flow. By the way, how many years will you be celebrating?"
"Six, sir."
"Well, that's longer than my daughter's marriage lasted." The doors slid open. "By the way, if Mallory questions you..."
"You were making me feel welcome, senator."
"Good man. Next time, you can come on your own. And we shall forget the rest of that cloak and dagger stuff as well. You've seen enough of our sins by now. It's time to stop being so virginal around you." Senator Morgan held out his hand. "Welcome to the team, Jim."
Jim nodded and leaned back against the wall as the elevator slowly sank. There were a couple of ways he could look at what had just occurred. One, he'd discovered the head of Order. Technically, that meant his job was done. The feds and A.G. Weinstein could figure out the rest-- who to book, what charges, etc. Or two, if he wasn't mistaken, the good state senator had just propositioned him about a contracted hit. That was surely worth a few more weeks or so undercover. At least he thought so, but it was going to have to be Weinstein's decision... unless Whitney overrode her. Considering that Morgan was a state politician, his intended target could have federal ramifications. Maybe he should contact Whitney directly before Simon could feed the information into the general pipeline.
"Any problems?" Mallory asked anxiously as the elevator doors opened.
"Just a Welcome Wagon type deal, Mal," Jim assured him with a smile.
"Good. I went ahead and called Blair about dinner tonight, hoping nothing would interfere."
Damn. He'd forgotten about the dinner. He had a lot to tell Blair and that couldn't be accomplished sitting across from Mallory. But it might seem suspicious if he suddenly reneged on the invitation. "It's still a go from my end, Mal. Of course, I may be running a little late."
"I know. Everyone is quick to sing your praises to me at the station," Mallory informed him. "I know how late you stay nearly every evening. And Kathy says she wishes everyone gave her reports as clear and precise as yours."
Yeah, because I have nothing better to do than to cross t's and dot i's-- like real investigative work, for instance. "Leftovers from my Army days, I suppose," he said with feigned embarrassment.
"Anyway, I told Blair I'd pick him up when he finished his class. No use in him hanging around the university waiting for you because his car is in the shop. You can just come straight to my place when you leave the office," Mallory pointed out. "Your car should be ready by then. I had it driven to the garage for the chains like you requested."
"Thank you," Jim said with trepidation. He wasn't quite sure what to make of this friendly Mallory. Although he'd become a regular at the beach house since that first dinner, Jim didn't wholly trust his motivations. But he'd always behaved appropriately with Blair even when they were alone. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
Mallory smiled. "We'll be waiting."
*****
"Man, Jim said he thought it'd be snowing before the day was finished," Blair said as he slid into Mallory's car. "Good thing he made me wear my heavy jacket."
"It doesn't bother you when he treats you like a child?" Mallory asked as he prepared to pull away from the curb.
"Stop the car," Blair said quietly and the man turned to look at him in surprise.
"I didn't mean anything by the remark, Blair," he said quickly.
"I don't think you did, but there's something we need to get straight, Mal. Trying to come between Jim and me, however unconsciously, won't work, man. So whatever fantasies you may be harboring, you need to toss them because they will never be reality," Blair said firmly.
"Have I ever done anything to make you and your partner believe I'd try to take you away?" the commander asked, obviously hurt.
Blair shook his head. "I'm going to tell you a story, Mal, just so you know where Jim and I are coming from with this, okay? A couple of years ago, there was this woman. I'm not sure what motivated her actions more-- her obsession with me or her hatred of Jim. Anyway, while she fed me lines about needing my help, she played games with Jim's mind and she did the unthinkable-- she made him doubt me, made him think that I had betrayed him and that he couldn't trust me." He stopped, the thought of what Alex had done to them still capable of making him incredibly angry and sad. "Jim kicked me out. I can't remember the last time something hurt me so badly as that. But I know he couldn't help himself, that he wasn't in control of his actions; she was. She managed to separate us and that made us vulnerable. She almost killed Jim, would have, except another police officer came to his aid. Me? She made me an offer that I had to refuse... and I ended up dead."
"My God, Blair!" Mallory said with a sharp gasp.
"It's true, man. Jim found me floating in a fountain on the university campus. The paramedics gave up on me, but Jim didn't. He kept calling me and calling me, until I heard him and I came back. So when he holds on too tight, I understand. When he becomes overprotective, I revel in it." He smiled. "I can be overprotective too, you know. I pace and worry every minute when he goes off with you to these meetings. Hell, I worry every time he leaves the house without me."
He looked over at the pale, silent driver. "So if Jim glares at you or I bite your head off for some innocuous comment, it has very little to do with you, Mal. It's because we remember what it was like when someone came between us before and we have vowed never to let that happen again."
Mallory shook his head. "I thought those stories you told about the criminals that have come after you were something. But this was much worse, wasn't it?" Blair nodded. "Thanks for confiding in me, Blair. I understand now and I want you to know you have nothing to fear from me. I do find you attractive and that, straight-laced prude I thought I was, is very difficult for me to accept. But even more attractive to me, even more of a turn-on, is your relationship with Jim. The two of you are... bonded. Couldn't the woman see that?"
Blair looked at Mallory in surprise. The man was more aware than they had suspected. Was that good or bad? "She saw only what she wanted to see. She hurt us worse than we'd ever been hurt before. For a while, it seemed like the damage was permanent, but..."
"But you and Jim refused to end, didn't you? That is what appeals to me, Blair. You are there for each other, during the good and the bad times. I don't even think death will come between you."
Blair smiled. "It didn't that time."
"Thank you, Blair. For trusting me with this, for honoring me with the truth," Mallory said softly. "It means a lot to me and if you and Jim ever need anything, just let me know. I'm your friend, yours and Jim's." He reached out and patted Blair's hand. "Now, let's go cook some steaks."
*****
"What the hell happened today?" Jim questioned as he and Blair got ready for bed in Mallory's guest room. The snow had turned into a virtual blizzard and while he was willing to chance getting out to their place, there was no way he would have made it back into the city in the morning and as head of the detectives, he needed to be at work. So Mallory had offered his guest room and because he could come up with no viable excuse to refuse, Jim had reluctantly accepted. He had searched the room manually and with his arsenal of senses for ten minutes before opening his mouth, however. There were no electronic devices and since he could barely hear Mallory moving around in his room on the other side of the house, he was certain the commander couldn't hear them.
"That's what I was going to ask you," Blair whispered back, crawling into the queen-size bed before he got too cold. "Where did Mallory take you today?"
"To see the eighth man."
"No shit?" Blair said in awe. "You actually met him?"
"You mean state senator Bryce Morgan, III? Yeah, I met him, Chief."
Blair stared at him. "So does this mean it's over? We can go home?"
Jim rolled over and looked him straight in the eye. "How badly do you want that, Chief?"
"What do you mean?"
"Something else has come up that may prove to be as serious as the drug trafficking." Blue eyes questioned silently. "The senator wants to hire me as a killer. Today was my interview."
"A killer killer?"
Jim nodded. "As in hit man. I don't know the target yet. I thought it might be interesting if I stay under to see what I can learn?"
"Hell, yes, you need to stay under, Jim!" Blair nearly yelled. "What is wrong with the people in this city, man? Shipping in drugs like car parts, hiring murderers like secretaries. Damn good thing you're here to stop it before it reaches Cascade. I don't think Simon would take it too well."
"Oh, like you are?"
Blair had to laugh despite the seriousness of the situation. "Let's just say we end it here. Agreed?"
"Agreed. But it may not be our choice. We're not in this on our own, remember?"
Blair rolled his eyes. "Man, all you have to do is tell Jordan Whitney what you want. You have him eating out of your hand and you know it."
"Speaking of people eating out of your hand, what the hell's going on with Mallory?"
"What do you mean?"
Jim shrugged. "Tonight he was different. Not as predatory or something. He always maneuvered so that the two of you were never alone. You didn't threaten him with some painful tribal ritual or something, did you?" And if he had threatened him, why? That was the question he longed to ask.
Blair turned over on his back, his eyes searching for the ceiling he couldn't find in the darkness. "I told him about Alex." He felt his partner tense. "Don't worry. I blurred it enough that he thought it was some sex thing. She wanted me. She played mind games on you. You lost your trust in me and kicked me out--"
"Stop," Jim pleaded softly. "It still makes me sick to think about that."
Blair wanted to turn over and say, "How do you think I feel?" But the anger was momentary. He knew Jim hadn't been in control of his actions, that his Sentinel instincts had him confused, that the dreams of killing the wolf had the detective scrambling to protect his partner. He knew all of this, accepted it as part of their past... a part that had made them stronger and closer connected. "I'm not saying this to hurt you, Jim, or remind you of what went wrong. You wanted to know what I told Mallory and that's what I told him so he wouldn't push so hard, so he would understand we, both of us, Jim, would push back."
Jim forced his eyes to remain open because if he closed them, he could still see the body floating in the fountain, pale and unbreathing. "Did you tell him that you... that you... died?"
"Yes. And that you brought me back. Alex didn't defeat us that day, Jim. She just proved that no one can."
"Lessons learned the hard way, Chief."
"Those are the ones that really matter, Jim."
"Thanks, Professor." The words were barely audible.
"Anytime, Professor." He rolled over this time, to see Jim's reaction to his reply. First, there was puzzlement, followed quickly by enlightenment, then laughter.
"Touche, Chief. Now, if you would excuse me, precious, I have a headache and need my sleep." He presented his back to Blair.
"But I want more, snuggle bunny," Blair crooned. Suddenly, Jim flipped over fast and furiously. Blair automatically scrambled out of the way, which in this case meant completely out of the bed. But as soon as his feet touched the cold floor, he reversed his movement and almost crushed a laughing Jim in the process.
"Snuggle bunny - 1, snow bunny- 0," Jim managed to gasp, then gasped even louder as Blair's cold feet found his bare leg.
"And Precious sco--oooo--ores by default," Blair cheered.
Sleep was a long time coming that night.
February
"Here you go, Simon. Now that Jim is completely accepted, his reports are pretty detailed," Blair said, fishing the folder out of his backpack. Jim now knew the identities of all eight core members of the Order: the chief of police, the police commissioner, the mayor, the city manager, the harbor master, the district attorney, one judge, and of course, the senator. The administration of Seacoast was definitely perched on the edge of hell and slipping fast.
Simon flipped through the information, impressed not only by the data but its appearance. "Jim did these reports himself?" he asked suspiciously.
Blair grinned. "All by himself, captain. Seems he's learned an administrative skill or two during his stint behind a desk. Wonder how long it'll take him to go back to his old ways when we get back?"
"If you get back," Simon murmured.
Blair's eyes widened in concern. "What do you mean, Simon? Have you heard something about Jim's cover? What's going on?"
Simon held up his hand, trying to halt a full-scale panic. "The cover's fine, Sandburg. I'm talking about Jim coming back to work for me. He's done an excellent admin job, even with all the inherent problems. The department will probably offer him another, higher ranking, position. And if they don't, then some department will. Why would he come back to Major Crimes and be a mere detective again?"
Blair motioned for Simon to sit, then perched across from him. "Even after he explained, you still don't understand, do you, Simon?"
Simon removed his glasses and idly tapped his nose with one of the handles. "No, Blair, I don't. He says being in the unit is where he belongs, but he's shown he can survive quite well on the outside."
"Survival is not the same as living, captain. Major Crimes is Jim's support team. You see those people on the news, right, who are trying to cross some ocean or fly around the world in a balloon, or something like that? They always have a ground crew with them, Simon. This crew covers the stuff the record-breaker, or I guess in a larger sense, the explorer, can't. They check ahead, clear paths, keep watch so that the explorer can get rest when he needs it. More importantly, these people let the explorer know he's not alone-- no matter how far to the edge he has to go, no matter the rules he had to change or the risks he has to take. To the explorer, that is a gift far beyond any other, captain, and Major Crimes gives that gift to Jim. You give that gift to him. He could have done this undercover gig without you, Simon. But it wouldn't have been the same to Jim... or to me."
Simon rubbed his eyes wearily, then replaced his glasses. "So, no word from Morgan about the intended target?" he asked, letting the subject of Jim drop. He would worry about if he had a detective later. Since Whitney had insisted Jim continue his cover despite A.G. Weinstein's insistence that the Order be put out of commission immediately, he still had a while before Sandburg's theory was put to the test.
"For the past couple of weeks, the senator has been wining and dining, Jim," Blair said, understanding Simon's reluctance to continue the previous topic. When it came to ambition, the captain and Jim had a different slant on things. Simon's view of ambition involved the standard corporate staircase to success-- more money equals more power equals more control. Jim's view started with control equaling power equaling more control. Different strokes...
"You're sure the senator has all his marbles?" If you're going to get someone to commit murder for you, why flaunt your relationship in public?
"Too many if you ask me," Blair commented dryly. "This is one shrewd character, captain. If he hadn't revealed himself to Jim, we may never have known who he was. Jim has never seen him onsite when a transaction is taking place. His name appears on no list and the only time he's ever been seen with one or more of the other seven has been at public affairs when they were expected to be together. But according to what he's let slip around Jim, he's the one who started the Order as a way of getting money to fund his political campaigns."
"According to what he's let slip around Jim? The man has spent decades covering his ass, then just shows it to Jim..." Simon shook his head. "What the hell is up with you two? Are you taking this assignment too seriously or what? First, you have Mallory coming after you and now Jim seems to be attracting Morgan. Or is this some Seacoast thing? Have they been sampling their own wares? Tell me that's it, Sandburg. Tell me these men are coming on to the two of you because they're high."
Blair grinned. "Just can't accept we're irresistible, Simon?"
"Quite frankly, it was scary enough when it was just the women after you. Now, you have men and so far, their resumes are worse than their female counterparts," Simon said with an aggrieved sigh. "Is this part of the Sentinel/Guide thing too? That you draw the attention of dates-from-hell so you can take them down?"
"I never thought of it that way, captain," Blair said and reached for his backpack. "I'd better make a note of that."
"Sandburg," Simon threatened wearily.
"Uh, sorry, sir. Where were we? Oh, yeah, being irresistible... Morgan doesn't want Jim like that. When he showed an interest in Jim, I did a little research and discovered he tried running for congressman nearly a decade ago but pulled out of the race early. I'm thinking Morgan has some big skeleton in his closet that he's either afraid will be discovered or someone has already discovered it but has sworn to keep silent unless he tries to move up in the political arena. Since he's being held back, the next best thing would be to have control of a person who can move forward. He sees Jim as that potential protegee. He's watching to see how Jim handles the power people and how they react to him. In fact, he took Jim with him this morning up to the capital to mingle at a luncheon in the senator's honor."
"Jim a politician? I don't see it," the captain mused.
"You have to remember Morgan isn't seeing the Jim we know, Simon. This Jim is pliable, agreeable, and pretty much obedient. He's a military hero, even has a magazine cover to prove it. He has a tough stance against crime, is very confident of his views, and his father and brother are successful businessmen. All of that will give him the male vote. If he smiles, he has the female vote. Some may look at him and see arrogance, maybe even a hint of smugness, but they also see someone who is trustworthy." Blair bounced to his feet as he warmed to his subject. "You know I've watched how Jim reacts to people; it's part of the study. But I've also watched how people react to him. At times the dislike is instantaneous. For some, he is too Aryan or too male. But if their case is serious enough, they want Jim on it. Why? Because they know he'll get the job done. Hell, isn't that why you give him the tough cases, captain? Because you know he won't give up?" He paced to a stop in front of Simon.
"But Morgan thinks Jim is involved with you. Doesn't that put a crimp in his plans?"
"Not really," Blair argued. "Find a woman with an impeccable background who has more interest in ambition than in love. Have Jim marry her and instantly, you have the foundation for the perfect family. It would be nice if they manage to produce a couple of kids but you could also put the right spin on adoption if necessary. Then later on, I could move into the house, perhaps as a tutor to the children or as a member of Jim's staff, depending on what office he's holding. It's called having your cake and eating it too. It works remarkably well in politics if you're shrewd enough to carry it off."
Simon shivered. "Jim's too good at this master criminal shit and you're too good at politics. It's no wonder I have a headache every time I leave this cabin. I'm going home now, Sandburg. Next week, we'll just stick to business, okay?"
"Sure, Simon. It's your call. You're the one who started this, remember?" Blair pointed out, gathering his bag and jacket. Suddenly, he felt homesick. It was as if Simon was kicking him out of his office.
"Don't remind me. But since we're never gonna talk about this again, tell me one more thing. If Morgan is grooming Jim to be his 'heir', why do you think he's going to go through with this hit notion?"
"Oh, that's a simple one, Simon-- leverage. He wants an heir, not an equal."
Simon stared at the leaving police observer and said a silent thank you that the man had majored in anthropology instead of political science. Politics did not need a mind like that.
*****
"Hello, Sarah. I'd like to introduce you to someone. Jim Ellison, I'd like you to meet our capable attorney general, Sarah Weinstein."
Jim smiled and held out his hand to the attorney general. He had spotted her immediately upon arrival at the four-star hotel where Morgan's luncheon was being held. Considering the size of the room and the number of people present, he had been hoping they wouldn't meet, but Bryce Morgan was doing his best to introduce him to all the "right" people. "It's nice meeting you, ma'am," he said politely, but disinterestedly.
"The same here, sir. How goes the fight against crime in Seacoast?" Jim's eyes flashed her a warning. What was she up to? Morgan hadn't mentioned he was a cop. Why was she bringing it up? "The number of crimes there has taken a sudden nosedive lately. Is that your influence, lieutenant?"
Jim looked at Morgan in feigned confusion. What is the A.G. hinting at? How should I answer, sir? Morgan patted him on the back. "Jim is indeed a vital member of the law enforcement team in Seacoast, Sarah. His detectives' efficiency ratings have skyrocketed under his command. So if you're suggesting crime in Seacoast is coming to a halt thanks to him, then you're absolutely correct."
"The senator is overstating, ma'am," Jim demurred, looking piqued at Morgan.
"And he's even modest," Weinstein said to Morgan. "Where on earth did you find this one, Bryce?"
"Good things come to those who wait, Sarah," the senator said and gently led Jim away. "She's a real bitch, isn't she?" he said under his breath to his protegee.
"She seemed to be implying something about Seacoast, sir. For security purposes, may I ask if she knows anything about the Order?"
"Hell, no!" Morgan whispered vehemently. "But she has suspicions and she's the one behind all the state police attention we've been getting. We'll have to have a long talk about her later, Jim. For now, put that handsome grin back on your face and let dazzle our people, hmm."
*****
Blair took one look at the protruding jawbone and knew something was bothering his roommate. "I take it you didn't have a fun day in Salem?" Jim just shook his head, dropped his briefcase and headed for the patio.
Blair poured two cups of coffee, grabbed his jacket, and joined his partner. Since winter began in earnest, they had taken to trusting Jim's senses and talking inside but it was in a sort of code that could easily confuse a haphazard listener. If Jim was going outside, no, if he was making Blair go outside in the cold, then it had to be something serious. "What's up, man?" he asked, handing Jim one of the coffees and sitting the other on the deck's table so he could put his hands in his pockets.
"I ran into the attorney general."
"Shit. What happened? She didn't blow your cover, did she?"
"No. But I could tell she was thinking about it," Jim said angrily. "If she had tipped Morgan off, the feds would have had no choice but to let the state police shut down the Order."
"And you probably would have wound up buried in the back woods somewhere," Blair fumed. "You never did trust her, did you?"
Jim shrugged and sipped the coffee. "Our goals have been different since day one. She wants the Order disassembled for political reasons. I want them taken down on moral grounds."
"I think we should get this info to Whitney as soon as possible. I'll arrange a meeting with Simon for tomorrow. He'll gripe about having to drive out again so soon, but I know he'll think it worth it as soon as I tell him."
"Something else you need to tell him too."
"What's that, Jim?"
"Sarah Weinstein is the target. Morgan wants me to take her out."
"When?"
"He'll let me know."
Blair took a big gulp of coffee even though he knew it could not dispel the chill he now felt in his soul. "This is a small world, isn't it, Jim?"
"Too damn small if you ask me."
Level V: Breaking The Surface
March
"He wants her done in Seacoast," Jim explained to the assembled taskforce. This was the first time since going under that he'd actually met with Simon, Whitney, Weinstein, and the others. But the events in the next few weeks had to be tightly coordinated and they felt it was worth the risk to meet and plan instead of going through intermediaries. "You're supposed to be in Seacoast to marshal the Easter parade, correct, ma'am?"
Sarah Weinstein nodded. "Bastard wants to watch me die in person, does he?"
"Actually, he wants me to wait until that night in order to slit your throat as you sleep. The Seacoast Plaza, Suite 21?"
She paled and looked at him suspiciously. "You've done your research, Mr. Ellison. Perhaps I better make sure my door is locked that night."
"Perhaps you should," Jim said flatly. "Don't worry, Ms. Weinstein. I don't play games like you did when we met in Salem."
"Can't take a joke, sir?"
"It would take a hell of a sense of humor to laugh at something that could have gotten me killed," he replied frostily.
"I assure you the counselor has been reprimanded for her behavior," Whitney interrupted to point out. "And I'd like to take this time to remind her of the penalties she could face for impeding a federal investigation if she ever pulls a similar stunt." The deputy director shot the attorney general a warning glance, then focused on Jim. "Ellison, you're the one on the inside. Tell us how you want to play this."
Jim flashed Weinstein a final glare and looked down at the scribbles he'd made during the meeting. "I'm going to arrange for a shipment to arrive that same night. If we time everything right, we should be able to take down the Order and Morgan in one coordinated swoop, thereby minimizing injuries and the risk of leaks. I have some actual notes," Blair reached him a folder, " and everything will be coordinated through Captain Banks. We'll begin with..."
Two hours later, Blair stretched as the meeting broke up. "That went well considering..." he said, his eyes falling on Weinstein who had complained over some of the details.
"Let it go, Chief," Jim said. "Water off a duck's back, okay?"
"Sure, Jim."
"Agent Ellison, would you stay behind a moment, please?" Whitney called.
"Certainly, sir." Jim headed back into the conference room, shutting the door behind him.
"A slip of the tongue, Simon," Blair said quickly, seeing the older man react to Whitney's form of address. Just then Weinstein brushed past. "It wouldn't do any good, you know," Blair said softly.
She turned around and looked at him. Why he was even included in the conference, she didn't know. He was in no way connected to law enforcement except through Ellison and even that stretched the imagination. "What wouldn't do any good, young man?"
"Checking your door, ma'am. Locks are not a problem for him."
Her eyes narrowed and she flounced off in a huff, but not before Blair noticed a slight tremble in her hand. Good.
"A slip of your tongue, Sandburg?" Simon asked dryly.
Blair shrugged. "Whatever."
*****
"Something troubling you?" Whitney asked Jim when they were alone. When Jim shook his head, he continued. "Whatever you say stays between us."
Jim sighed. "I'm just worried about Morgan, sir. He's a powerful man and will make an even more powerful enemy. If we take him down, I need assurance he's going to stay down. With the strings he can pull in Oregon..."
"Which is why he's going to face federal charges. His association with the Order gets him into bed with the DEA. Conspiracy to murder an attorney general plus his obvious control of state officials makes his ass mine. He won't surface, Jim. I promise you that," Whitney vowed. "Anything else setting off alarms in that mind of yours?"
"The attorney general's attitude unnerves me a little," Jim admitted. "After all, she will be in charge of the state police's role in this."
"Will this help ease your worry?" Whitney tossed him a small leather fold-over. Jim flipped it open to reveal a federal badge and I.D. "This isn't a sign of commitment on your part. I just figured if something goes wrong, yelling that you're Seacoast police will be about as useless as flashing your Cascade badge. Even the state police have to yield to a federal agent."
Jim smiled grimly. Whitney had a point; the two badges issued to him at the moment were equally useless. A federal badge was a different matter, however, and would give him room to maneuver if necessary. "No commitment, sir?"
Whitney held up his hands in innocence. "None, detective. I'm not trying to recruit you. You're the type person who knows what team he wants to play on. This is just insurance, that's all."
"Thank you, sir." Jim stuffed the offering into his back pocket. "And yes, it does make me less worried."
"Good. Good luck, detective." Jim nodded and left. Whitney leaned back and smiled. Some fish you just reeled in; others you let play until they wearied of the game and almost came to you on their own accord. Ellison was definitely the latter.
April
"We've got trouble, senator," Jim said as the elevator deposited him in Morgan's office, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.
"Sarah Weinstein?" the senator asked the obviously agitated man.
"She lives. There must have been a leak," Jim said, pacing and running his hand through his hair. "The place was crawling with undercover state police. Who knew about this, other than you?" he accused.
Morgan looked taken aback. "Surely you don't think I--"
"Was I gaining too much popularity, senator? Was I blocking your light?" Jim charged bitterly.
"Hold it right there, Ellison," Morgan said sternly. "I did not turn you in."
"Then who did? That was not standard security by a longshot." Jim was furious and none of it was pretend. Apparently Weinstein had taken it upon herself to increase her security. It wasn't part of the plan and had in essence, screwed it royally. Initially, Jim was supposed to have "killed" Weinstein, took a Polaroid of her body to show to the senator, and the feds would tape Morgan gloating over the murder. Now, he was stuck making up the plan as he went along. "Who have you talked to, Senator Morgan?" he demanded.
Morgan looked at him as if he were insane. "Do you actually think I told someone I hired you to kill Sarah Weinstein? What kind of fool do you think I am? The leak must have come from your end."
"No, it did not," Jim said adamantly. A cell phone rang and Jim pulled it out of his pocket. "Ellison... uh, huh... uh huh... when? Okay. Thanks. I owe you." He clicked off the phone and slammed his fist into the desk. "That was a federal contact I have. Seems the DEA is going after tonight's shipment. You sold us all out, senator? Thought I was going to take over that too?"
"Now, look here, Jim," Morgan said nervously, flinching beneath the cold blue gaze. "I haven't sold out anyone. Maybe it was someone else in the Order, maybe--"
"Who knew I was going to do Weinstein for you? I certainly didn't tell anyone and since I know you had the good sense to sweep your car and office every day..." Morgan's pulse leapt. Bingo. He had been hoping for a break like this, hoping that Morgan himself would reveal a weakness to exploit. "You didn't have them swept for listening devices? What kind of big time crook are you?" Jim said with disgust. "I ought to kill you now and be done with it. I still have the knife I was planning to do Weinstein with..." He took a menacing step forward.
The elevator opened and men streamed out. "Federal agents! You are under arrest. Please put your hands where we can see them!"
Both men complied with Jim giving Morgan visual daggers. "You better hope they keep you a long time, senator," Jim growled as one of the agents handcuffed him and shoved him toward the elevator.
"Keep him away from me," he heard Morgan say as the elevator was closing. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know as long as you keep him away from me."
Jim smiled and turned to the agent beside him. "You want to get rid of this hardware?" He waggled the wrists clasped behind him.
"Sorry, sir," the young agent said and hurried to complete the task. "You did good work up there," he added conversationally. "We were monitoring in order to arrive on cue. I think I'd spill my guts to get away from you too."
Jim smiled grimly as he unbuttoned his shirt and removed the mike he'd been wearing. Damn tape had irritated his skin. Wonder if Blair brought along any of that miracle salve of his? "I know he admitted to hiring me on tape, but I thought a good confession with his lawyer present probably wouldn't hurt."
"You are thorough."
"Sometimes you have to be." Jim left the elevator and headed toward a familiar smell. "You haven't smoked that thing in the car, have you?"
"I thought you liked my cigars, Jim," Simon commented, leaning against the car the Bureau had provided for him.
"I tolerate them, Simon. But it's been a while since I've been around them. You're going to have to let me get readjusted."
The captain muttered something and stepped over to a trashcan against the wall. The sand on top of it was overflowing with cigarette butts and he snubbed his cigar out. Guess he knew where the building employees came when they got a break. "Any more requests?" he snarled as he joined Jim back at the car.
"Yeah, now that you ask," Jim said impishly and Simon reflected that the man had been around his partner too long. "How are the other arrests going?"
Since everything was coordinated through him, Simon was on top of all of it. "The bust on the docks was smooth and the whole shipment was confiscated. We're collecting the rest of the Order as we speak. Except for the part you were in charge of, everything is going according to plan. Why am I not surprised?"
Jim's lips narrowed in dissatisfaction. "Is it just my imagination or does Sarah Weinstein have it in for me?"
"I'm sure that's one of the questions Whitney will have for her when she's hauled into his office," Simon said, hoping he'd get a few moments alone with her as well. The woman could have ruined everything and gotten Jim hurt in the process. Whitney had ordered her held in custody at the hotel. Wonder if he could... His cell phone trilled. "Banks."
"I'm driving," Jim was saying a minute later and Simon merely tossed him the keys and slid into the passenger's seat. One of the Order had managed to get a call off to Commander Mallory before his arrest and now Mallory was nowhere to be found. However, Jim apparently had an idea or two.
It was nice, Simon thought, as the car tore out of the parking garage, that with Jim you never had to relay a phone message because he could hear the conversation as well as the two main parties. But sometimes it was better if he didn't hear. "You think he's gone after Sandburg?"
"I know he has. He's fascinated by him, Simon."
Simon turned on the flashing lights in the car's grill. It would only be sporting of him to let the citizens of Seacoast have fair warning that a crazy man was driving through their neighborhoods. "Jim, I don't know what you think he may do to Sandburg, but I do know killing yourself-- and me-- before we can get there won't help," the captain added as a yellow sign whizzed by, indicating a very sharp turn ahead.
"Don't worry, captain. I drive this road every day."
Simon thought of the streets of Cascade that Jim had driven every day, yet the detective had still managed to destroy how many cars and trucks? He said a prayer and hoped the passenger's side airbag hadn't been disabled.
*****
To say that Blair had been startled to see Mallory's car pull into the drive was an understatement. His first thought was that something had happened to Jim, then he remembered what was going down and began to wonder if something was going to happen to him. What the hell was he going to do? Mallory knew he was home. His car was a giveaway, as well as the lights blazing throughout the house.
"Blair! It's Mal!," the commander yelled, bamming on the door.
The anthropologist took a deep breath and opened the door. "Mal! What are you doing here, man? What's wrong?"
The man raced inside, shutting the door quickly. "It's all falling apart, Blair. The feds are rounding up everyone. They probably already have Jim. Can't let them get you too."
Shit. This wasn't the way the plan was supposed to go. What should he do? Easy. Play along until Jim arrived. He was sure his partner was on the way. "Why would they come after me, Mal? You're the one they're probably after. Why are you here?"
Mallory reached out to tousle a curl. "You're such an innocent, Blair. They want you because they'll use you, just like we did, to get to Jim. Now go quickly and pack a bag. I know a place where we can hole up tonight, then I have a friend with a private plane. You're so smart you can probably speak Spanish fluently, can't you?"
Blair held up his hand. "Mal, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you're wasting your time. If you want to flee the country, I certainly can't stop you. But I'm not going with you. You know that, don't you?"
The commander grabbed his arm and gave him a quick shake. "I know you don't want to leave Jim. I understand that. But he can skip bail and join us later."
"Or I can join you now," Jim said, having slipped silently through the deck door. "Let him go, Mallory."
Both men jumped in surprise. "Jim, man, you've been taking too many lessons from that damn cat," Blair said breathlessly.
"I thought the feds had you," the commander said blankly.
"They don't. Let him go," Jim repeated, revealing his gun.
"It's cool, Jim. He wasn't trying to hurt me," Blair said quickly, before Jim could react to what could be construed as a threat.
Mallory dropped the wrist. "Of course not. I was trying to help, Jim. We can't let the feds get him. He'd never survive on the inside. You know that."
"He's a lot stronger than you think, Mal. But that really doesn't matter because the two of us aren't going to prison," Jim said, putting his gun away.
"Great. You have an escape plan then?"
Before Jim could answer, Simon came up behind him. "Everything under control?" he asked, having seen the detective put away his gun.
The next thirty seconds were a complete blur to all. Mallory pulled his gun and fired at Simon. Jim stepped in front of his captain and Blair shoved into Mallory. Then Mallory looked at Blair in confusion, Blair looked at the gun that now rested in his hand, Jim looked at the new hole in his shoulder, and Simon just merely stared. Then the initial reactions were over.
"Jim! You've been shot!"
"Give me the gun, Chief."
"What the hell were you thinking, man!"
"He was going to arrest you!"
"You're the only one that's going to be arrested, Mallory," Simon said forcefully. "Give me the gun, kid, and see to your partner. I'll call for an ambulance."
"Hell, we can be back in Cascade before an ambulance gets out here, Simon," Jim protested. "Besides, this shoulder's been shot so many times, the bones know to get out of the way. It's just a flesh wound."
"Simon?" Mallory was repeating to himself as the captain approached. "Kid?" He looked around the room. "This is a setup, isn't it?"
"You have the right to remain silent, Commander Mallory," Simon clipped. "You have the right to an attorney--"
"Jim, you're clean?" he asked, ignoring Banks altogether. "Of course you are," he said to himself when no one answered. "This is great."
"Not for you," Simon said, reaching for his handcuffs.
Mallory shook his head. "No, you don't understand. I'm happy about this. I truly am. I thought... I felt guilty about blackmailing him. From the beginning. He was so earnest, so dedicated to the job. It felt wrong corrupting him like that. Then I met Blair and I felt really bad. Penalizing these two for what they felt for each other... it wasn't right. But you know that, don't you, captain? You didn't really fire them, did you?"
"No, I didn't. And if you like them so much, you'll cooperate. We have to get Jim to the hospital since you shot him," Simon replied bitterly.
Mallory paled. "I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to. I thought I was saving you. I thought I was protecting you. I should have known. You couldn't love Blair and not be good. He makes you look at your soul too much, doesn't he? Why didn't I see that? You've been undercover from the beginning. Both of you. You're a cop too, aren't you, Blair? The way you just disarmed me... Cops. Better than the ones I worked with. Better than the one I am..."
"Mal," Jim said from the sofa where he sat letting Blair remove his shirt, packing the wound with gauze hastily secured from a first aid kit which traveled with them everywhere. "No one but you knows we were undercover, okay? We don't want people coming after us later. Of course, we'll testify if and when we have to, but until then..."
Mallory solemnly nodded. "I won't betray you guys. I know you don't believe me, Jim, but that's okay. I understand. What you know of me..."
Before Jim could reply, Blair spoke up. "What's this, Jim?" He pointed to a bright red spot of his partner's chest, then went back to check his handiwork. The bleeding appeared to be under control.
"I was wired when I went to Morgan's office and I reacted to the tape they used. It itches like the devil. Almost gave myself away when I confronted the senator."
Blair fished a small metal tin of salve out of the kit. "Confronted him? Why do I think this wasn't the only glitch in your brilliant plan?"
"Because you know our luck as well as I do, Chief. But I think we can officially chalk this one into our win column," Jim said, his nose wrinkling in distaste as he smelled the ointment Blair opened.
"You use chalk, Jim. I prefer permanent marker," Blair replied as he gently daubed the inflamed area. "Does that feel better?"
Jim smiled. The itch, which he had dialed down to an annoying irritation, completely disappeared. "Why do miracle creams always have to smell so bad?" Jim groused lightly.
"You're just a big baby, you know that, Jim? Here you are with a hole in your shoulder complaining about the medicine you have to take," Blair chided.
"You haven't heard complaining yet, Chief. Just wait until those sadistic doctors and nurses start on me," Jim warned.
"They're not sadists," Blair started, then changed his mind. He'd spent quite a bit of time in hospitals too. "Even if they are sadists, it doesn't mean they aren't trying to make you well."
"That's real comforting, Chief," Jim laughed, then reached for his shoulder as the movement caused it to hurt.
"Turn the dial," Blair said softly, quickly leaning into Jim in order not to be overheard as he helped his partner manage the pain.
Simon, aware of what Blair was doing, waited patiently for Jim to get the pain under control so they could leave. Then he noticed how intently Mallory was staring at the two. In one step, he effectively blocked the man's view. "I'm taking the prisoner out to the car. Join us when you can." He grabbed Mallory's arm and tugged him toward the door.
Mallory shrugged and docilely went the way he was led. "It's okay, captain," he said, noticing Simon's uneasiness. "I don't want to hurt them. I was just looking, that's all. I'm going to be away for a long time. I just wanted something to take with me."
Simon shuddered, glad that this case was over.
Epilogue: Safely Ashore
May
"Brown, do you have the Phillips' file?"
"No, Jim, I haven't seen it. Try..." Brown's head jerked up from the notes he was trying to decipher. "Jim! You're back!" he yelled with a grin. "And Hair Boy too!"
The loud greeting attracted everyone and suddenly people were coming at them from all sides. "Be careful," Blair warned sharply. Everyone stopped in their places and looked quickly at Jim, trying to discern the injury because they all knew the one who protested was never the one injured.
Jim scowled at his partner's overprotectiveness. "It's fine, Sandburg. The doctor said I was fit."
"But he didn't say anything about it being healed enough to survive being punched and slapped, even in jest. I know the greeting rituals around here, man. They need to know to avoid that shoulder."
"Nag," Jim fussed.
"Better to nag now than listen to you whine all night."
"I do not whine."
"You do too."
"They're back," someone said in an exaggerated whisper and everyone smiled in agreement. Jim and Blair just looked at each other in embarrassment.
"Don't tell us, Jim, you got shot in the shoulder again?" Joel asked solicitously.
"Okay. I won't tell you," Jim replied with a "why me" shrug.
"But nothing was said about an officer being injured in the Seacoast operation," Zack pointed out with a frown.
"What the hell do any of you know about the 'Seacoast operation', as you put it?" Jim asked bewilderedly. He trusted that Simon hadn't said a word to the unit.
Everyone looked around at everyone else sheepishly. "Well, uh," Rafe began because no one else would speak. "Zack has friends in Seacoast and he gets a subscription to the Seacoast Gazette."
"And he's been getting this subscription how long?" Jim questioned knowingly. "Since August, maybe? September, perhaps?"
Brown shrugged and decided to get the rookie out of the jam. "Actually, we had something even better than the paper, Jim. CNN. It's a station on a device called the television and it shows the news. Like for instance, the shake up of a state government and the largest drug bust in the history of the state of Oregon," he explained patiently. "You never do anything in half-measures, babe. Tracking the exploits of you and Hair Boy is a piece of cake to trained detectives such as ourselves." Especially when we're clued in by bigots asking stupid questions. But we all decided that'll be our secret.
"Speaking of tracking you... Where have you guys been? The Seacoast incident went down weeks ago," Dalton asked curiously.
"Blair probably had to finish the semester, didn't you?" Rafe guessed.
"Both Jim and I, actually," Blair said proudly.
"You went back to school, Jim?"
"He taught a couple of seminars."
"No shit? There's two of you now?" Brown said with a surprised laugh. "Listen up, guys!. We better behave ourselves or we're going to end up cleaning erasers after class and writing on the board one hundred times, 'I will not tick off Detective Ellison."
"Why don't you make that 'I will not tick off Captain Banks'?" Simon called drolly from the door as he returned from a meeting upstairs. He looked at Jim and Blair, shaking his head. "For nine months, there was peace and quiet in this unit. The two of you return for less than nine minutes and there's chaos. The least you could have done was call and warn me," he berated gently, glad to see them too. They had wanted to finish out the semester and although Jim never admitted it, Simon knew the seniors in his classes had asked him to stay around for their graduation.
"Sorry, Simon," Blair said unabashedly. "We just got back this morning and it was either clean the loft of every speck of dust or come down to the station and let you guys know we're okay. Of course, I wanted to stay home and clean, but I knew how much you had missed me."
"Oh, Sandburg, you don't know how touched I am by your sacrifice," Simon said dryly. Everyone laughed and the questions started flowing again. Since Simon had lived the story firsthand, he started toward his office, content to let the reunion continue. Then he stopped and called out softly to Jim, knowing the Sentinel would hear him. When he looked up, he motioned Jim into his office. "How's the arm?"
"Fine, sir. I knew the rehab exercises better than the therapist so I'm recuperating on my own," Jim said with a pleased smile.
"Still satisfied with the decision not to press charges against Mallory for the shooting? It wasn't an accident, you know. He was aiming at me," Simon emphasized, wondering if Sandburg wasn't softening Jim up too much.
"I know, sir. But his intention was to protect Blair," Jim said helplessly. "How could I condemn him for that?"
Simon sighed. How indeed? Probably the reason he'd kept his mouth shut too. He reached into his desk and pulled out Jim's badge, hesitantly offering it to him. "I've been holding onto this for a while now. Think you might want it back?"
Jim took it and reverently ran his sensitive fingers over the medallion. "I haven't been whole since I left it here, captain. Thanks for taking care of it for me."
"You're welcome," Simon said, then stared into the blue eyes of his friend and detective. "It's good to have you back, Jim."
"It's good to be back, sir."
And Simon finally understood that he meant it.
*****
Blair let himself into the loft and looked around for his partner. After leaving the station, he had stopped by Rainier University for a few hours while Jim had come on home. Even with his un-sentinel nose, he could smell the cleanness of the condo. Jim had worked hard while he was at the university to remove the layers of dust which had accumulated in their absence. He knew he should feel guilty that he hadn't helped, but he was too excited at the moment. Maybe later he'd feel guilty. Much later.
"I'm on the balcony, Chief. Bring a couple of beers with you."
"Sure thing, Jim." He put down his backpack and headed for the refrigerator. On the balcony he found his partner looking across at the city. "Here you go, Jim." Jim took the bottle and clinked it against Blair's. His roommate looked at him curiously. "What are we celebrating?"
"Whatever it is that has your heart pumping a mile a minute, Chief," Jim said with a grin.
"Well, that could be fear, you know."
Jim shook his head. "Different rhythm."
Blair's eyes widened. "You can tell the difference between panic and plain excitement? When did this happen?"
Jim shrugged. "So tell me your news before you go and jot this down in your little notebook."
"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about, Jim. I'll write the information down, of course, but it won't be for my dissertation. It'll just be a note for my Guide guide."
"What are you talking about?"
"It's finished, Jim. The dissertation. I had all that free time in Seacoast and I finished it." He waited for Jim's reaction hesitantly.
"That's great, Chief. Now what? You have to defend it, right? So you'll need me to come in and dazzle them with my expertise? Just let me know in time to clear my schedule with Simon."
Blair looked at him in surprise. "That's it? That's all you have to say? No 'I'll read over it and let you know what you have to get rid of'? No 'I'm not a performing bear'?"
The detective shook his head. "I told you I was wrong about that a long time ago, Chief, and I meant it. I'm just sorry the stuff with Alex and everything that followed put you so far behind in your work."
Blair smiled. "I guess I could have left the review committee their copies. I just assumed I had revisions to make."
"The truth doesn't need to be revised, Chief. Do whatever you have to do. I trust your decisions." Jim thought about that statement for a minute. "On that particular subject anyway," he added hastily.
His partner laughed. "I was beginning to wonder what had happened to my favorite roommate." He took a pull of the beer. "I don't know what happens after this, Jim, what I'll do. I've been in a university setting for so long... And I can't count on the C.P.D. giving me an offer. But I'll be with you one way or another. You know that, don't you?"
"I know, Chief. And don't worry about all that. We'll get through it like we always do-- one step at a time... together."
"Yeah, that works for me." Blair looked out at the city. "Not exactly the ocean, huh?"
Jim smiled. "Better."
Blair looked at the garish and glaring lights, listened to the raucous horns and the faint sound of a siren, and smelled the odors only a city could generate. He glanced at Jim in confusion. "Better?"
"Yeah. Standing out here, I had a revelation, Chief. An epiphany, I guess you could say," Jim said softly.
"What was it, Jim?" Blair inquired in a hushed tone. If Jim was admitting to a revelation, it had to be deep.
"You said you thought my territorial bounds may be widening and maybe you're right. But my center is here, Chief. Cascade is my home. No matter how many times I leave, I will return. No matter what sights I see, what sounds I hear, what experiences I have, I will always wind up here. And here I will be content."
"Wow." He'd been right; it was deep. Jim had left Cascade in anger, had returned because he felt lost and figured the city was as good a place to start over as any. Now, he finally realized he had returned because it was home. Not too many people recognized home when they saw it.
"Can you live with it?" Jim asked quietly. Blair was a born traveler. Would he be comfortable settling in one place? Yes, he had been living in Cascade for a number of years now, but this was different. Jim was home. Was Blair?
"'For whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge...' In the Bible, Ruth said that to Naomi, Jim. That's something I never told my Naomi and when I was of age, we went our separate ways. But it is a pledge I make to you, Jim, and like Ruth, I will be steadfast to my word."
Jim nodded silently, touched by the vow. Somewhere in his life, he must have done something wonderful to even have a chance at the friendship he had with this man. He couldn't hope to ever be truly worthy of it, but he vowed to try every day for the rest of his life. He held out his bottle again. "Then we drink to home, Blair. To Cascade."
Blair tapped his bottle lightly against Jim's. "To Cascade."
THE END