One of Our Own Page 4

  that rested on the tabletop. His mind flashed back to the moment just

  after he'd shot the knife from this man's hand. He'd planned to kill him.

  It hadn't been a conscious decision. It had been...instinct. When he saw

  Blair sprawled helplessly across that table, this man looming over him,

  instinct had taken over. If not for Simon, Jim would have done it. Would

  have shot him dead. Now, as he stared into the man's cold eyes, knowing he

  had just tried to kill his partner a second time, he wished he had

  succeeded.

  Henderson lifted his phone receiver. Jim followed suit, lifting his own

  even though he really didn't need it to hear the man.

  "Ellison, I was surprised when I heard that it was you out here waiting to

  see me." The left side of his mouth curled up in a grin. "Well, I guess

  that's not really true. I expected you to come see me, just not today."

  "Why? Because you thought I'd be down at the morgue with my partner?"

  Henderson's smile increased. "Did something happen to the little prick?"

  Jim's hand tightened around the receiver. "I'm here for one reason and one

  reason only. I want you to understand that if you ever do anything again

  to threaten Blair in any way, it'll be the last thing you do."

  Henderson's eyes widened. "Are you threatening me?"

  "Yes," Jim said simply.

  "What's the matter, Ellison. Don't like anyone else touching your

  property."

  "Listen to me you sick son of a bitch because I'm only going to say this

  once. If I see you near Sandburg, even see you looking at him, I'll kill

  you. You'd be dead now if my captain hadn't been with me yesterday. And

  if it weren't for this Plexiglas…well, let's just say it's the only thing

  keeping you alive at the moment."

  Henderson's expression did not change but Jim could hear his heart as it

  sped up. The man believed the threat. Knew Jim meant every word of it.

  And that was all he wanted. Jim put the phone back in its cradle and left.

  -------------------------------------------------

  Simon watched from his car as Jim exited the prison. He had known he was

  coming here the second he got Sandburg's frantic call. The kid had been

  worried that Jim would do something rash, something that would get him in

  trouble. Simon waited until Jim drove away before going inside. The guard

  seemed surprised by Henderson's second visitor within minutes but complied

  with Simon's request to see him.

  Henderson strode into the visitor's section, a smug smile pulling up the

  corners of his mouth. He plopped down in his seat and removed the phone.

  Simon waited with the receiver already to his ear. "Ellison's already come

  to threaten me, Captain Banks. You two get your wires crossed or

  something?"

  "I didn't come here to threaten you, Henderson. I came to make you an

  offer."

  Henderson quirked an eyebrow at him. "Offer, huh. What kind of offer?"

  "You plead guilty to assault and attempted murder on Sandburg and take

  whatever the D.A. offers you and I'll make sure you get transferred to a

  prison out of state."

  Henderson snorted. "That's not an offer. That's just stupid." He leaned

  forward, his voice taking on a low, conspiratorial tone. "Just between you

  and me, that kid...this was all his doing. He instigated--"

  "You will take this offer," Simon began again, his voice over-riding

  Henderson's, stopping the man's obscene flow of words. "Because if you

  don't, I will make sure that you are put into the general population of

  this prison while you wait for trial. And I just happen to know that there

  are several members of Michaelson's gang already inside. I think they'd be

  more than happy to get their hands on you."

  Henderson visibly paled. "You can't do that."

  Simon stared at him, unflinching. "Can't I?"

  -------------------------------------------------

  Jim opened the door to the loft and stepped quietly inside. He could see

  Joel asleep on the couch. His gaze shifted to Blair's room. The door

  stood ajar, the light off. He could hear Blair's slowed respiration, knew

  he was asleep. Jim shut the door, setting his keys on the table beside the

  door.

  He hadn't planned on being gone so long but as he'd left the prison, he'd

  gotten a call from Brown about the shooter and spent the rest of the

  afternoon and much of the evening down at the station. But at least he had

  some good news to share with his partner.

  He crossed to Taggert and reaching down, shook the big detective. Joel

  blinked sleepily up at him. "Hey, you're home," he said, shifting until he

  was sitting upright. "Sorry I fell asleep."

  "Sorry I was gone so long."

  Joel stood, stretching his back. "It's okay. Sandburg and I played some

  cards but the kid was pretty wiped out. Went to bed a while ago."

  "Good," Jim muttered, glad to hear that at least one of them was going to

  finally get a decent night's sleep.

  Joel grabbed his jacket and headed toward the front door. "Brown called

  and filled me in on what went down tonight. Told me what's going on with

  Sandburg, too. Stinks, Jim."

  "Yeah, that's a good description for it."

  "You know, I just think of Sandburg as your partner. I forget he's not a

  cop."

  "I think we all do, Joel."

  Jim opened the door and handed Joel the keys to his car. Taggert stepped

  over the threshold but turned back to face him. "We're all behind you. I

  didn't say anything to Sandburg because I didn't know if I should but Jim,

  none of us want to see him leave."

  "Thanks, Joel. And thanks for staying."

  "Anytime."

  Jim closed the door and threw the locks. He leaned his forehead against

  the hard wood, exhaustion pulling at him. But he could not go to bed. Not

  yet. Turning, he padded to Blair's room and stopped outside the French

  doors. Cocking his head to the side, he listened.

  "I'm awake," Blair called softly. "Come on in."

  Jim pushed open the door and stepped inside. Blair lay on his back, his

  gaze on the ceiling. Moonlight poured in through the small window, casting

  long shadows across the walls.

  "I've got some good news," Jim said, crossing into the room, leaving the

  light off.

  Blair sat up and leaned against the headboard, brushing his hair back from

  his face. "Joel already told me. You guys caught up with the shooter."

  "Yeah we did. He was a junkie named Rollins that Henderson sometimes used

  as a snitch. The man was terrified of Henderson. We couldn't get anything

  out of him at first but the minute we told him that Henderson was going to

  be going away for a long time, he turned on the bastard. Couldn't talk

  fast enough at that point. He admitted that it was Henderson who sent him

  after you and Michaelson." Jim sat on the edge of the mattress. "But

  that's not the good news. The good news is that Henderson took the D.A.'s

  offer. There won't be any trial."

  "Oh man, that's great!"

  "Yeah, I thought you'd like that." Jim smiled at his partner's genuine

  relief. "It's funny though. Henderson called the D.A. before we caught up

  with Rollins
. Before we had any evidence connecting him with those

  shootings."

  Blair pulled his knees in close and wrapped his arms around them. "Maybe

  he just figured he'd gone too far. That it was better to deal now before

  the rest of it came into play."

  "Maybe," Jim mumbled but he didn't think so. Something else had changed

  Henderson's mind. Something that had made the man desperate enough to take

  a deal that Jim didn't think was all that generous.

  "So did you get your badge back?" Blair asked, drawing Jim away from his

  thoughts.

  His brow furrowed. "My badge? No, of course not. I didn't even see Simon

  while I was there."

  "Jim, didn't this afternoon prove to you that I was right? You couldn't

  stay away. You had to go in and help because it's what you are and what

  you do. You love your job. And you don't need me to do it."

  "Blair, did you hear what Taggert just said?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "Yes, it does," Jim insisted. "I'm going to tell you the same thing that I

  told Simon. You're the best partner I've ever had and I'm not going to let

  a few jealous uniforms take that away from me."

  "Jim, I can't let you give up your job because of me. I don't want to

  interfere in your life that way. I only got involved because you needed

  someone to help you get control of your senses and I've done that. We both

  need to face the fact that you don't need me anymore."

  "Is that really the only role you see for yourself in all this?"

  Blair shrugged one shoulder. "What else is there, Jim?"

  "When we started this, Chief, I told you to never refer to me as your

  partner. I said that because I couldn't ever see you in that position. I

  couldn't see myself depending on you the way you need to depend on a

  partner. But you became that. You back me up and I trust you with my

  life. Do you know how hard that is to find? How rare? I can't just walk

  away from that. I won't."

  "Where are you going to go? You think you can walk into some precinct in

  another city and present me as your partner and they're going to accept me?

  I'm an anthropologist, Jim. Not a cop. Simon knows what you are. That's

  the only reason I was with you. Besides, I'm sure everyone's going to be

  relieved to find out I'm gone," he finished.

  "Sandburg, you heard what Taggert just said. You know that's not true."

  "Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I don't see how you have much choice

  here." Blair looked at him. The pain in his eyes tore at Jim.. "I knew

  it had to end at some point, Jim. I just wasn't ready for it, you know? I

  just wanted a little more…" His words trailed off as his gaze shifted away

  and Jim knew he was struggling to regain control of himself. "I'm sorry,

  man. I'm not up to this right now." He let out a shaky breath. "Just go

  to bed, Jim. I'll be fine."

  "Blair, do you trust me?"

  "Jim, I--"

  "Do you trust me?" he asked again, his voice insistent.

  "You know I do," Blair admitted softly.

  "Then trust me when I tell you that I'm going to work this out." He patted

  his leg through the blanket. "You'll be back to work before you know it."

  Blair managed a small smile. "Yeah, whatever you say, man. Now go to bed.

  We both need our sleep."

  Jim pushed up from the bed with some reluctance and crossed to the door.

  He stopped before exiting and turned back toward his partner. Blair lay on

  his back again, but his eyes were closed now. His breathing slow and even.

  Jim stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He

  crossed to the couch and dropped down.

  Trust me when I tell you that I'm going to work this out.

  His head fell back against the cushions as his promise to Blair wound

  through his mind. He'd meant every word of it. He would work this out.

  He just had no idea how.

  -------------------------------------------------

  Morning light filtered in through the window. Blair lay in bed staring at

  the patterns the sunlight made on the wall, listening to the silence of the

  loft. He liked it here. Had from the very first. He felt comfortable

  Safe. But he couldn't stay.

  He would finish his dissertation. Hell, he could have finished three of

  the damn things by now. Then he would get his Ph.D. and find himself a

  real job. Something that would support him so that he could move out on

  his own, give Jim his space, put some distance between them. Because he

  couldn't take away everything his friend had worked for. And that was

  exactly what would happen if he stayed with him.

  Blair shoved back his blankets and grabbing up his robe, headed out of his

  room. Now all he had to do was convince Jim to let him go. Make him see

  that he didn't need him as much as he seemed to think he did. That he

  would be better off in the long run without him.

  As he stepped into the living room, Blair was surprised to see Jim asleep

  on the couch. He was sitting upright, his head resting back on the

  cushions, a soft snore escaping his lips. Blair cringed, imagining the

  sore neck Jim would have when he woke.

  Crossing to the door, he went downstairs for the morning paper. By the

  time he came back, Jim was awake. He sat forward on the couch, rubbing the

  back of his neck.

  "Morning, Jim."

  The Sentinel glanced up at him. "Hey Chief." He stood, groaning slightly

  as his back cracked loudly, and crossed to Blair.

  "You hungry? I was going to make some eggs." Blair squinted down at the

  paper, trying to make out the small print. He didn't even bother with his

  glasses. They were useless.

  "Here, try these. I've heard they work better."

  Blair looked at the glasses Jim held toward him. It was his good pair, the

  frame and lens repaired. "You got them fixed? How?"

  "Yesterday while I was out I went to one of those one hour places I always

  see advertised on TV. They okay?"

  Blair slipped on the glasses and glanced down at the paper in his hand, the

  words coming into sharp focus. "They're perfect, Jim. Thanks. But you

  didn't have to. I would have taken care of it."

  "I did it for purely selfish reasons, Chief. I couldn't let you drive with

  that other pair and I can't very well cart you all over Cascade while I

  wait for you to get around to fixing them."

  Blair smiled. "Whatever you say." He dropped the paper on the counter and

  pulled out a frying pan. "Eggs?"

  "Yeah, sounds good." Jim snatched up the paper, scanning the headlines.

  Blair grabbed the egg carton from the fridge, keeping one eye on Jim the

  entire time. "You going to work this morning?" he asked casually.

  "No work to go to," Jim answered just as casually.

  "Jim—"

  "Sandburg, save the lecture until after breakfast. Or at least until I

  have some coffee."

  Blair opened his mouth but the phone rang, cutting off any further

  discussion.

  "Ellison?" Jim said into the receiver. He raised one eyebrow as he

  listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.

  Blair cracked four eggs into a bowl and began to beat them, his gaze never

  leaving Jim. He hoped it was Simon o
n the phone asking Jim to come back or

  at least come in so that the two of them could discuss Jim getting his job

  back.

  "Yeah, we'll be right there," Jim said before hanging up. "Forget the eggs,

  Chief. That was Simon. He wants us down at the station."

  "Us? He asked for me too?"

  "By name." Jim crossed to the stairs and headed up to his room. "I'm

  going to change. Get dressed. And you're driving," he called over his

  shoulder. "My truck's still out of commission."

  -------------------------------------------------

  "Okay, Simon, we're here. This better be good." Jim sat in one of the two

  chairs flanking the captain's desk, Blair beside him. They hadn't said

  much to each other on the drive over, neither of them willing to voice

  their hope at what this hastily called meeting might be about. But now as

  Jim waited for Simon to begin, he wished they had talked. Wished he knew

  exactly what was going through Blair's mind.

  "Good morning to you too, Jim," the Captain said, his voice tinged with

  sarcasm. His gaze shifted to Blair. "Sandburg—"