Progression Series 20 Legacy (Final) Read online

  I cannot begin to make amends for what I have done to you. Please understand this agony is not of my own making. If it were I would have put a stop to it. I am only able to abandon my life with you because I love you so fiercely. If I loved you less, I would not have been able to take even the first step toward this place where I now find myself. I only hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me for what I have done, and for all I failed to be.

  With deepest love and unending devotion,

  Aaron

  With a deep sigh, Jim closed the journal and placed it on the couch next to him. Leaning forward, he placed his head in his hands. It was obvious that his grandmother had either never read the journal or had read it and had chosen, for whatever reason, to withhold the truth from her son. Jim shook his head at the waste of it all-the stupid, unnecessary waste. Instead of Aaron's hoped-for forgiveness and understanding there had been only bitterness and anger. And the worst part of it all was that Jim's father never knew just how much Aaron Ellison had truly loved him.

  He stood and paced wearily to the windows, stared out across the city. We passed judgment on Granddad and never once bothered to find out why he left. Yes, the decision to leave had had horrid results, but at least now...at least now Jim understood why Aaron had gone away.

  Suddenly, Blair's words from the day they had spent in the attic came back to him: I think you owe it to yourself to at least read it, to get to know what kind of man he really was!

  And as the remembered statement settled across his mind, he realized that he owed it to his father to let him know, as well, what kind of man Aaron Ellison had been. It wouldn't be easy-William hadn't wanted anything to do with the journal. After their talk the other day, after Jim had offered to leave the volume behind, William had rejected the idea, looking at the journal as though it embodied all the pain and isolation he must have felt as a child. And in a way, Jim supposed it did embody those emotions and more.

  He understood his father's fears. He'd lived with fears himself for so many years that he recognized all the signs of denial and self-protection. But if he'd learned anything from Blair over the past few years, it was that it did no good to run from your past, from your fears. Jim had learned to stop running...and perhaps it was time for his father to learn as well. And perhaps sharing the journal's contents was the one and only gift Jim could give his father that would bring healing to the older man, and to Jim and Stephen as well.

  Turning, he crossed to the phone, quickly dialing his father's number before he had a chance to change his mind.

  "Hello?" his father's voice came across the line.

  "Hi, Dad."

  "Jimmy. You sound tired. Is everything all right?"

  Jim smiled at his father's concern. "Yeah, Dad, everything's fine. I...I called to ask you something. Something about the journal." He held his breath against the tirade he was expecting, but all that met his ears was a long silence.

  "Odd you should be calling me about that," William responded softly after several long seconds. "I've been thinking a lot about what we discussed yesterday, Jimmy. About the journal, my father." There was another short pause, then... "I was going to call you a bit later...see if maybe we could get together again and talk some more."

  Jim felt the smile on his face growing wider and for the first time since he could remember, a warm feeling toward his father spread through him. "I'd like that," he admitted softly. "I've been reading more of Granddad's entries and Dad...." He paused briefly, trying to think of the best way broaching the subject of Aaron's leaving and the hope that had gone into the decision. "Your father wasn't at all like you remember him," he began, keeping his voice low. "It's so obvious that he loved you and Grandma. If you'd just...." But his voice trailed off as uncertainty crept back in.

  "What is it, Jimmy?" his father prompted. "What is it you want me to do?"

  Jim took a deep breath and forged ahead. "I'd like you to reconsider and read the journal, Dad," he answered quickly. "I know you said you didn't want to, but it just explains so much...."

  "I...I don't know..."

  "I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think it was important. I promise you there is nothing in there that could possibly make your feelings toward your father any worse. In fact, I think reading it may have the opposite effect. He really did care for you, Dad. He just...he just couldn't show it."

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line, then William spoke again: "Don't you think it's better to just let 'sleeping dogs lie,' Jimmy?"

  Jim pursed his lips. "Sometimes, yes. But not this time, Dad. Not with something this important."

  A long silence ensued, a small sigh, then his father's voice reached him again: "All right, Jimmy," the older man acquiesced, his voice soft and accepting. "If you really think it's that important, I'll read it."

  Jim exhaled the breath he'd been holding. "That's great, Dad! I know you won't be sorry." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "I...I could bring it over this afternoon if you like."

  "Well, unfortunately, I'm going out of town for a couple of days," William said. "But I'll be back on Saturday afternoon. If you'd like to come over then, we could talk about it over dinner. How does that sound?"

  Jim smiled widely. "That sounds good. Why don't you give me a call when you get home and I'll come on over."

  "I'll do that, Son."

  "Okay. Good. I'll talk with you this weekend, then."

  There was another pause. Jim could almost sense his father struggling with something. He waited quietly, and after a few seconds his father's soft voice reached him again....

  "Jimmy?"

  "I'm still here, Dad. What is it?"

  "I...I just wanted you to know that I love you," the older man rasped out, emotion thickening his quivering voice. "I always have."

  Jim's breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes against a sudden sting of tears. "I know, Dad," he whispered. And as he said the words he realized that, for the first time in his life, he did know it.

  There was a small snuffle on the other end of the line. "We Ellison men just aren't very good at saying how we feel, are we, Son?" William asked with a tiny, relieved chuckle.

  Jim opened his eyes as an understanding smile spread across his features. "No, Dad, we aren't," he admitted softly. "But you know what? I think we're learning."

  /

  /

  /

  Dr. Stoddard looked up as a soft knock sounded on his door. A moment later, Blair entered his office. Eli frowned as he took in Blair's downcast expression, his slumped shoulders. The young man's movements, as he walked toward Eli's desk, were stiff, weary. Eli stood and moved quickly around the desk. "Blair, my boy, what's wrong? And don't tell me 'nothing' because it's obvious something is."

  Blair glanced at him for the briefest moment before lowering his gaze. "No, you're right," he admitted softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "Something's wrong. Something's very wrong." He dropped into the chair before Eli's desk, rubbing a hand wearily over his face. When Stoddard lowered himself into the chair next to the one Blair had taken, Blair turned troubled eyes to him. "I just spent the day trying to prove that someone else could step in and help Jim should anything ever happen to me."

  Sudden understanding washed over the professor. He was well aware of Blair's attempts to find someone who could help Jim in the event that Blair was no longer able to. And he was just as aware of the failure of those attempts. And from the look of defeat on Blair's face, it appeared he'd run into another failure. The professor reached over and placed a hand on Blair's arm. "What did you find, Blair?" he prompted quietly.

  Blair kept his gaze on the floor, shook his head forlornly. "I couldn't do it," he admitted softly. Quietly he related the events he'd uncovered in Aaron Ellison's journal, the guide who had slipped into Aaron's life and given hope, only to be snatched away before his help could come to fruition.

  "I thought, Dr. Stoddard-hoped-that I'd find that someone
else had eventually come along who was able to help Aaron. But no one did. He just lay in that hospital, growing worse and worse with each passing day." For the first time since he'd started relating the story, Blair looked over at Eli, his expression troubled. "Nicholas Britt was my last hope," he admitted brokenly. "I've searched and searched for evidence that a sentinel can have more than one guide, hoped that if one guide can't help that another would come along and fill the gap."

  "But that's not the case, is it, my boy?" Eli queried softly, already knowing the answer.

  Blair shook his head. "If I look at this from a research standpoint, then I have to look at the facts and only the facts. Isn't that what you always taught me?"

  Eli smiled. "It is. And what are the facts telling you?"

  Blair stared at Stoddard for a long moment. "They're telling me that a sentinel needs a guide, that without that guide the sentinel is doomed to a life of misery, even insanity."

  "And?" Eli prompted.

  "And...." Blair paused, clearly struggling with what he was about to admit. "And it would appear that guides just don't 'come along.' It would appear," he continued, "that guides are as predetermined as sentinels seem to be."

  "You're getting there," Eli said kindly. "Now draw your conclusion, Blair. You know what it is, now all you have to do is say it. And accept it."

  Blair swallowed deeply, his troubled eyes focused on Eli's face. "It also appears that a sentinel not only has a guide, but that he or she has only one guide."

  "Excellent," Eli smiled.

  Blair stared across at him. "You don't seem very surprised," he stated flatly.

  "I'm not," Stoddard replied, standing and moving to the large picture window that overlooked the north lawn of the Rainier University campus. He stared out for a few seconds then turned back his former student. "Over the past several months I've worked closely with you on your sentinel research, Blair. And I've seen firsthand what happens to Jim when he doesn't have you there for control." He thrust his hands down into the pockets of his corduroy slacks and leaned back against the windowsill. "As a scientist it's been very clear to me for a long time-every sentinel has one guide and one guide only. And it has also been very clear to me that you are the guide meant for Jim. My only confusion is in why you find that concept so difficult to accept."

  "Because I hate the idea that I'm the only one who can guide Jim." Standing, Blair began to pace the office. "If what I've discovered is true, what it means is that if something happens to me, Jim is in trouble. Big trouble. He won't be able to control his senses. He'll be lost." He stopped in front of the professor, spread his arms wide. "How is that fair, Dr. Stoddard? How is it fair that my life now defines his?" He huffed out a frustrated breath and shook his head. "There has to be a way around that," he said with determination. "There has to be a way of protecting Jim. I just haven't found it yet."

  Eli smiled warmly. Pulling his hands from his pockets, he reached out and gently grasped Blair's shoulders. Looking into his troubled eyes, he said, "You're trying to dismiss the evidence you just admitted finding," he reminded his former student. He tightened his hold on Blair's shoulders. "And as an academic you know you can't do that."

  Blair hung his head, staring at the floor. After a few seconds, the young man nodded his head, but kept his eyes averted.

  "Blair, look at me," Eli instructed, then waited until Blair did as he had asked. He looked into Blair's troubled eyes and gave him an understanding smile. "As academics we can't dismiss what you've found, but we also both know that the problem here has nothing to do with research methods or academics. It has everything to do with you, Blair. With your acceptance of a role you were destined to fulfill." Eli dropped his hands and shrugged. "You're obviously happy with Jim, so I know this isn't about you not wanting to fulfill that role--"

  "No," Blair cut in quickly. "I'm very happy with Jim, you know that. And I want to be there for him for as long as he needs me." He bit out a mirthless laugh. "Which is appearing more and more to be forever."

  Blair stared out across Eli's shoulder, to the autumn-hued trees scattered across the lawn in the distance. "It's just that I can't face the fact that something could happen to me and Jim would just...lose everything." He brought his gaze back to Eli. "And with the that work I do with him, you have to admit that something could happen."

  Eli nodded. "Yes, Blair, I understand that. Tell me, have you spoken with Jim about this?"

  "Not exactly. We've danced around it a bit."

  "Where is he today?"

  "At home, I think. It's his day off."

  Again, Eli nodded. "Then I suggest," he said slowly, "that you go home, sit down with your sentinel, and let him know not only what you've found out, but how much it scares you."

  Blair huffed out a humorless breath. "There's nothing he can do, Professor."

  "Perhaps not. But you and Jim are in this together, my boy. And I don't think you'll come to complete acceptance until you and Jim have discussed the situation together. This goes far, far beyond your friendship, and you can no longer keep it from Jim. You need to talk with him, share your concerns."

  Eli had expected another argument, but instead Blair rolled his eyes and smiled, then chuckled lightly.

  "What?" Eli questioned, confused at the young man's sudden change in mood.

  "Nothing. It's just that you sound like me when I lecture Jim about opening up."

  Eli laughed. "Well, then, I'd say it's time to take some of your own advice, my boy."

  Blair grimaced, looked at the professor knowingly. "Physician, heal thyself?" he asked.

  Eli laughed again, heartily this time, and reached out to lay his hand against Blair's cheek. "You always were my brightest student," he teased with warm affection.

  /

  /

  /

  Blair sat in the Volvo, engine off, and stared up at the loft windows. He'd been sitting in his car for nearly twenty minutes now, not ready to go in, unsure what he wanted to say to Jim. He needed to tell him what he'd found out about Nicholas Britt, but he knew that when he did it would confirm in Jim's mind that there was only one guide per sentinel. Confirm the fact that the chosen guide was the only person who could help his sentinel.

  Leaning his head against the seat behind him, Blair stared up at the ceiling of his car. Who was he kidding? Things had been confirmed in Jim's mind for months now. It was Blair who had needed convincing.

  He let out a long breath, trying to release the tension that was now tightening his back, clenching his stomach. Just accept it, Sandburg. You're Jim's guide, the only person who can help him. He closed his eyes against the words, against the truth, fear prickling over his skin. Without wanting to, his mind turned back to Evelyn Wilson's description of Aaron Ellison's life....

  "It was like he was being tortured."

  Blair shuddered at the description, at the knowledge that if something happened to him, Jim would be left alone, left without his guide. That Jim would be in trouble.

  Opening his eyes, he looked up again at the soft light emanating from the windows of the loft. "I'm sorry, man," he muttered. "I wanted so badly for it not to be true." But he knew now that it was true-he was the only person who could guide his sentinel. And Jim had to know.

  Pushing out his door, Blair slung his backpack over his shoulder and trudged toward the front of the apartment building. As he rode up in the elevator, he tried to decide the best way of broaching the subject.

  Guess it's just best to be honest and up front, he finally concluded as the elevator doors slid open and he stepped out into the hall. He stood in front of the loft door, allowing himself a few final seconds of reprieve before he'd have to enter the apartment and present Jim with what he'd found. But his reprieve was not to be-before he could reach out to insert his key into the lock, the loft door swung open and Jim stood before him, a frown on his face.

  /

  /

  /

  "I was beginning to worry about you," Jim sa
id, stepping aside as Blair crossed into the loft. The detective closed and locked the door behind his partner as Blair dropped his keys in the basket and deposited his backpack underneath the coat rack.

  Sandburg straightened and looked up at him. "Worry? Am I late for something?"

  "No, Sandburg. It's just that...well, you've been sitting downstairs for a while now."

  Blair stared at him for a long moment. "You knew," he stated flatly.

  "Heard the Volvo drive up." Jim folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes. "By the way, I want you to get the brakes checked. I could hear a slight grinding sound as you drove up."

  Blair shook his head. "Always looking out for me, aren't you?" There was no humor in the question, no levity in his voice.

  Jim frowned at the flat tone in Blair's voice. "We look out for each other, Chief," he responded quietly.

  Blair looked over at him, and Jim met his gaze evenly. "Yeah," he breathed out after several seconds. "We do."

  Jim continued to study Sandburg, watched him carefully as the young man made his way to the couch and sat down. "So," Jim began when the silence went on too long, "why were you sitting out in your car? Everything okay?"

  Blair shrugged. "Just lost in thought," he muttered. Leaning forward, he picked up the small journal from the coffee table before glancing up at Jim. "You read any more of this?"

  Jim nodded, made his way over to the couch opposite Sandburg and lowered himself down onto the cushions. "Actually, I read a lot."

  "Anything helpful?"

  Again, Jim nodded, frowning at the dull tone he could still hear in Blair's voice. He leaned forward and rested his arms across his legs, clasping his hands in front of him. "Most of what I read dealt with how my dad reacted to his father's...problem, how what my dad perceived as his father's coldness caused him to withdraw and become bitter." Jim shook his head. "My father always thought Granddad simply abandoned them, but in reality leaving his family broke my grandfather's heart. So many things could have been different if only my grandfather had felt he had other choices."