Disclaimer: The Sentinel and his universe belong to Pet Fly.Spoilers: The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg, Night Train, and Four Point Shot
Warnings: One really bad pun, but Blair insisted. Blame him, not me.
Author's Notes: The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg would never happen in this little alternate universe, mainly because Naomi knows someone else in the publishing industry. And with all due respect to The Writers, there were a couple of things about this episode that really bothered me.
Tribal Guardians by Blair Sandburg
#4 in The Sparrowhawk Sandburg Series
by
Besterette
Besterette@aol.com
Naomi Sandburg felt her heart clench a little at the thought of her darling son placing himself in harm's way, although she knew he did it all the time, it was just that she usually wasn't here to see it, and in this case, ignorance was bliss. Life is uncertain, and I'm letting it go... "It won't, ah, be too dangerous, will it?"
He flashed her a grin over his shoulder. "C'mon, you know I'm only an observer," he teased her and went out the door.
"But you don't just observe, you participate," she sighed to the empty air. She needed to keep herself too busy to worry. She could rearrange the furniture, but the boys seemed to have done that and the flow of energy was greatly improved. She could start dinner, but with Jim's allergies, it was safer to wait for Blair. And the loft certainly didn't need cleaning, that was one thing you could say for Jim's military background, the fascists taught you to be neat. She eyed the computer, tempted, but she'd promised Blair she wouldn't read his work.
She'd promised Blair she wouldn't read his work.
Naomi picked up the phone and punched in a number she knew by heart. After three rings, her daughter Sparrowhawk answered absently, "Telephone, I mean, hello?"
"Beau, sweetie, am I interrupting?"
"No, Mom, I can take a break and talk. What's up?"
"Oh, I'm in Cascade, visiting Blair, he's fine, Jim's fine, and guess what? Blair has finished the first draft of his thesis! He seems awfully worried about it, though, and I was wondering if maybe you could help him with it, proofread or something?"
"Mom, I quit helping Blair with his homework when he skipped a grade ahead of me in high school."
"I know, Beau, but it's so very important to him, and you've had fourteen novels published and scads of articles."
"Big difference between an academic anthropology thesis and that. The travel articles are 'How I Spent My Summer Vacation' translated into Yuppie, and the romance novels are ridiculous, I admit that freely. And if Blair wants me to do this, why isn't he asking?"
Naomi paced a little with the phone still to her ear. "Because I just thought of it. Blair's off doing something with Jim."
"Mmm." Her daughter's tone was faintly lecherous. "Wish I was off 'doing something' with Jim."
Naomi brightened. When Beau had taken the tall detective for a lover, Naomi hadn't believed it would be more than a momentary fling, Jim was almost the complete opposite of her daughter's usual type. "You and he are still..."
"On and off. Whenever we can get together. I managed a couple of weekends there en route to and from Alaska."
Naomi sat down on the couch to happily harangue her daughter. "You know, Jim's a good man..."
"Mom..."
"With a very forceful aura..."
"Mom..."
"And you say you want children, but you can't keep hitting the snooze alarm on your biological clock. Even if he isn't your soulmate he's good co-parenting material..."
"Mom..."
Abandoned on a desk in the middle of the Major Crimes bullpen, a brown leather backpack began to ring. Rafe eyed it warily, glanced at the closed door to the captain's office, sighed, and went over. He unzipped the smallest compartment and gingerly pulled out a cellular phone.
"Blair Sandburg's phone, can I take a message?"
"Rafe? It's Beau."
He grinned, and checked the captain's office for any sign of the meeting breaking up. "Which one did you want?"
"The one I'm related to."
"They're both in with the captain right now..."
"Is Captain Banks yelling at him?"
Rafe watched through the blinds. "No."
"Could you get him for me? Please? It isn't a family emergency yet, but it will be if I don't warn him."
"Warn him?" Rafe was already walking over. "About what?"
"Our mother," she said so darkly he had to smother a laugh before knocking at and opening the door.
"Blair, there's an urgent call for you."
Blair excused himself, noticing the captain rolling his eyes, and took his phone, walking over to the breakroom for some privacy.
"Yes, this is Blair Sandburg."
"Heads up, kiddo. Naomi's in a maternal mood again. You, uh, you let her see you working on a draft of the thesis, huh?"
Blair's heart began to beat a little faster. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Because, O Prince Of Obfuscation, you fumbled trying to distract her from it. She thinks you're worried about the quality of your work and asked if I'd take a look at it for you. If there's still sensitive material in there you'd better hide it for the duration."
"I can do that." Blair leaned against the break table. Another disaster narrowly averted.
"So. You finished it," Beau said flatly.
Blair swallowed against the bile rising to the back of his mouth. "Yep."
The silence was so thick you could spread it with a knife. Until Beau said his name in a small anguished voice, "Blair..."
"I know. I've been avoiding it. But I can't... I can't do this any longer. I've had one foot in the ivory tower and the other foot walking a beat for four years now. If I keep trying to live in both worlds... I'll be torn apart. It's time to make the decision. I've got to choose."
"Whatever you choose, brother..."
He swallowed again. "I know. Thanks, sis." He spotted Jim and Megan crossing the bullpen. "I gotta go." He hung up and walked out, forcing a smile.
Jim called out, "Hey Chief, let's roll," he added in an aside to Connor: "Just because Bartley's a pain in the neck doesn't mean we let him get his head blown off."
Blair ran a hand through his loose shoulder length hair. "Uh, actually, Jim, I'm gonna sit this one out. I've got some stuff to do at the University, and Mom's at the loft..." He put his phone back in his backpack.
Jim smiled. "How is Naomi?"
"She's fine." Until I get my hands on her. Gotta redefine privacy. And personal property. "You don't really need me for this, do you?"
Jim looked at him for a long moment. "Nah. I guess we can handle it."
Blair waited until they had left, then went back to stick his head into Banks' office. "Hey Sim—" He caught himself. "Captain? Look, I know everything's crazy with the assassination attempt, and this isn't the best time for this, but I—I need to talk to you."
Simon sighed. "What is it now, Sandburg?" and frowned. He dropped the pen he'd been toying with, and focussed his full attention on the younger man, recognizing that this was more than the average agitation. Blair stood still, mostly, just inside the door, shifting his weight from foot to foot. The hands were at waist-level, thumbs hooked into the waistband of his jeans, fingers in the pockets. One hand darted up to rake through the long hair.
"I finished my dissertation."
Simon leaned back in his chair, removed his glasses and polished the lenses thoughtfully. "Now why do I have the feeling that you aren't waiting for me to congratulate you?"
Blair looked nervously over his shoulder, then shut the door and came over to perch on the corner of Simon's desk. "I can't use any of the information on Jim. Maybe I've been watching too many episodes of the X-Files... but I started thinking about this after Brackett. Should take me two or three days to edit out any mention of Jim, I can use the historical references, no problem. I get my Ph.D. and if I'm lucky, Rainier will invite me to stay on as an associate professor... but the way Edwards feels about me, I don't see that happening."
Simon sat up, frowning. It had never occurred to him that Sandburg might have to leave after he got his doctorate.
"And even if it does, man, I'll have a full class load, I won't have any time to work with Jim... and my official excuse for hanging around and tagging along on cases is that I'm writing a paper. I won't be writing papers anymore, I'll be assigning them. But I can't put it off much longer. My advisor's been making some pointed comments lately. I hand in my diss and life as we know it is over. Unless I graduate and don't take a teaching position."
"I can go to the brass, that paid consultant gig, obfuscate something about Cascade being a multicultural community so we need a resident anthropologist."
The kid's face lit up like he hadn't expected Simon to offer to fight for him. "Wow. Uh, what I really wanted to ask was..." He looked at his feet for a moment, then up again. "What exactly would be involved in going through the police academy?"
"The academy?" Simon repeated in disbelief. "Cutting your hair, for one thing."
Blair grinned, and waved a dismissive hand. "It'll grow back. Or I'll borrow that Rogaine Jim thinks he's hiding in the linen closet. I was gonna ask Rafe, but I didn't want to get any rumor started. How long do you think I'll be in uniform before I can make detective? And when I do, can you ask for me in Major Crimes or do I get assigned to whoever needs the manpower? Stuff like that. Staying Jim's partner, keeping things as they are, is the whole point to this, if I can't be his partner I'll see what happens at school and then figure it out. I could probably teach high school social studies or something, if it meant staying in Cascade."
"You're serious about this? You want to be a cop?" Simon asked, feeling a weird sense of deja vu. He'd already had this conversation with Darryl not long ago.
"Surprised the hell out of me," Blair admitted with a rueful chuckle. "But, yeah. I love teaching and I'll miss it... but what you guys do is important, and I'd like to be part of it."
Simon thought for a moment. "A month."
Blair blinked. "What?"
"You've worked with Jim unofficially for a couple of years, on some high-profile cases. I'll have to call in a few markers, but I'm sure I can get you a place at the first detective exam after you get out of the academy. You'll probably have to be a uniformed officer for about a month."
"You'd really—oh man—thanks!" Blair's face lit up like a kid who'd gotten everything he'd ever wanted for his birthday. "That's so cool, Simon."
He leaned back. "I want you on the team, Sandburg." He smiled slowly. "Once you have your shield, you'll have to call me 'Captain.'"
"Yes sir, Captain, sir!" Blair snapped to a reasonable imitation of attention and tossed a jaunty salute. "I'll be at the U if anyone needs me." He ducked back out through the door.
Simon rolled his eyes, and muttered to himself. "It may not be a perfect world, but at least it's an entertaining one" and went back to work.
Jim walked into the loft, sniffing. "That isn't the stuff that made my nose itch for a week, is it?"
"No, this is just lentil soup. Blair said it would be okay, and he's working late at school." Naomi hurriedly put down the wooden spoon and went to give the man she was beginning to think of as a second son a proper greeting. He still didn't hug very well, either he didn't get enough practice or he just wasn't a casual hugger. She pushed back a little and looked up into his eyes. "Ooh. You've been working out?"
"I have to stay in shape just to keep up with your kid," he said lightly, moving away.
"Between Blair and Beau you must be getting plenty of exercise," she teased him, to see him not-quite-blush. Jim was just so cute when he was embarrassed. Leave the boy alone, Naomi, he can't help being repressed. "Are you hungry? Dinner's ready and Blair said not to wait."
Jim just nodded and got out the bowls. "So, Naomi, how are you and where've you been?"
The lentil soup was a good choice for today, hot and soothing to drive away the damp chill. And Naomi was the perfect antidote to a day spent with a guy like Bartley; she told a series of funny stories about her recent adventures with her usual irrepressible enthusiasm. Naomi was just so optimistic about everything—the woman didn't even get lost, she simply changed destinations. Jim realized it had been two hours.
"Guess Blair is really running late," he commented.
"He's probably started the second draft already, polishing his thesis before presenting it, I know Beau always complains that the rewrites are almost worse than the writing..." Naomi prattled on, missing the stricken expression that passed fleetingly across Jim's face.
He went numb, feeling like he'd been punched in the stomach. Blair finished his thesis. He's done. It's over. He made it through the rest of the evening on automatic. James Ellison had a lifetime of experience at hiding his emotions, even from himself; Naomi never noticed the difference.
His mind kept circling, helplessly. Stupid, it was the deal, it was always the deal, I get control of the senses and he gets his doctorate. And now I've got control and know how to avoid zoning and he's done with the thesis, no more research, no reason to hang around "You don't really need me on this." And there'll be an expedition or a teaching position... you didn't really think he was going to be around forever, did you? It's over. I just never expected to like the kid so much... It hurt, a killing hurt, to know exactly what he had and that he was going to lose it. And he knew how damn selfish that was, this was the moment Blair had been working for his whole life. Four years, Chief. It was one hell of a ride.
Blair wasn't around much for the next few days, and even when he was, Jim avoided him. He knew it was childish: I won't think about it and you can't make me, but he did it anyway.
Exhausted, Blair stumbled into the loft, the binder tucked under one arm. It was finally done, after one of those marathon sessions he hadn't gone through since he was an undergrad. Getting too old for this. But it was finally done, and now he felt a sense of peace, that free-floating anxiety that had been gnawing at his soul for so long replaced by excitement. He couldn't wait to see what would happen next.
There was no sign of his mother in the loft, and Jim came out of the bathroom in his robe. "Hey, Jim, how's the Bartley case going?"
Jim glanced at him. "Wrapped it up. The trap we set worked, and our old friend Klaus Zeller is going back to prison. Maybe they can keep him there this time."
"Cool. Uh, so where's Naomi?"
Jim shrugged, heading for the stairs to his bedroom. "Said something about a meditation at the Japanese Gardens."
Blair nodded, glad they'd be alone for awhile. "I uh, I finished my thesis."
Jim stopped and turned slowly. "Yeah. I knew you were working on it, your mom mentioned it."
Blair set the binder down on the dining table. "After you've read it, we should talk—" A jaw-gaping yawn interrupted him. "I need a nap." He made it to his room and crashed on the bed.
He slept for an hour, when he got up he saw Jim, dressed, sitting in the yellow chair, the binder across his knees. He dragged a hand through his hair and leaned against the open doorway. "What'd you think?"
Jim rubbed his chin. "Well, it's a little over my head, here, Chief, but I thought it was good." He paused, puzzled. "I'm not in it." He held up the skinnier folder entitled The Thin Blue Line: Group Dynamics In Modern Warrior Cultures. "I'm in this one."
"Yeah, well, it's safer that way. I think the latest case study I used was from 1875. I still have all my notes on you, but mostly I'm documenting to keep another SenQuil incident from happening—y'know, the coughy, achy, sneezy why-the-hell-am-I-hanging-off-a-train cold medicine? And the thin blue line paper—I had all the information, I had to do something with it. This way I wasn't lying about the observer's pass, I was just procrastinating."
Jim just grunted. "So. You hand this in and it's Dr. Sandburg, huh?"
Blair smiled. "It's a little more involved than that, but yeah. Fourteen years of college. It's time to move on with my life."
"Yeah," Jim said softly. "Congratulations, Chief. Looks like I'm going to be on my own again."
Blair crossed the room, heading for the couch. "For a while." This is too easy! "Since I was your unofficial partner on so many high-profile cases, Simon arranged for me to sit the first detectives' exam after I get out of the academy, he's pretty pleased I'm being a role model for Daryl, do college first and then cops and robbers—"
Blair never even saw the bigger man move. He just hugged back, surprised, because Jim wasn't usually so demonstrative, then wriggled against the iron bands smushing his nose into rock-hard muscle. "Uh, Jim, can't breathe, man. Please don't squeeze the Shaman."
Jim let go with a sheepish expression. Blair looked up into his eyes and knew. "Oh, man! You thought I was gonna bail out on you, that as soon as I published, it was gonna be goodbye, adios, dosvedanya, so long and thanks for all the fish?" He shook his head. "You still gotta work on the trusting people thing. This is friendship, Jim. You aren't getting rid of me that easy."
"But anthropology... your doctorate... it was your life."
"Yeah. It was," Blair explained gently. "Anthropology was what I chose when I was sixteen. I've changed. Took a fork in the Road of Life and decided I like the scenery better, see, you and Simon kept telling me 'you're not a cop' and I realized I am," he touched his chest, "in here." He grinned at Jim, who still looked like he'd been hit across the forehead with a two-by-four.
"You're the best partner I ever had. And a better friend than I deserve."
Blair looked away. "So the self-esteem needs work, too. But right now we've got to go pick up my sister at the airport. I've still got to tell Mom I'm going to be a cop," he snorted. "I called for backup."
Jim opened the door with a long-suffering sigh. "Come on in, Captain."
Simon Banks walked into the loft, nose wrinkling. "Jim, what is that smell?"
Jim was already at the fridge, getting out a couple of bottles of beer. "Sandburg's burning his hair."
Simon stared at him. "Did you just say..."
Jim nodded. "Sandburg's burning his hair. He brought it home with him from the barber shop, put it in a copper bowl with some lavender and cedar chips, and got into uniform, saying something about grieving rituals and transformation ceremonies."
They both looked at the young man on the balcony, recruiting poster perfect in dress blues, in the lotus position, eyes closed, chanting, the brazier burning before him.
Simon laughed. "The more things change the more they stay the same."
~ End ~
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Page last updated 8/15/03.