Progression Series 20 Legacy (Final) Page 8

  Blair pursed his lips and slowly shook his head. "What a senseless tragedy, Jim. All those years of misunderstanding...."

  "I know, Chief." Jim took a deep breath, exhaled it. "But, hey," he amended, giving Blair a quick smile, "it's not all bad news. I called Dad today; he and I are going to get together later this week and talk about what I found in the journal, about my childhood. He even said he'd read it. I really think this could be good for us."

  Blair quirked an eyebrow. "I'm surprised he's willing to talk about it."

  Jim chuckled. "Yeah? Well, maybe we Ellisons aren't as averse to change as everyone seems to think we are."

  Blair huffed out a small laugh, the first sign of his normal good humor that Jim had seen since he'd arrived home. "I always knew there was hope for you, man," he teased. He placed the journal on the table and leaned back against the cushions behind him. Looking over at his partner, he said, "I'm really happy about this, Jim. I know it's going to make a difference when your father reads how much his father loved him."

  Jim nodded, dropped his gaze to the carpet for a moment. "It's cleared up a lot of things for me," he admitted. He raised his eyes and looked at Blair again. "I was wrong to dismiss the journal, Chief. I'm glad you insisted on reading it." He paused, smiled softly. "Thank you."

  Blair colored a bit beneath the praise, then lifted a hand to dismiss the thanks. "Not a problem." He sobered as he continued to look at his partner. "I'm just glad it's given you some answers. And some peace."

  Jim nodded, chewed thoughtfully at his lip. "Yeah," he said after several moments. He studied his friend, saw the uncertainty lying just beneath the surface, the weariness in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he spoke softly, "I just wish you could come to some peace, buddy."

  Jim had half-expected an angry retort, but instead Blair dropped his gaze, fidgeted with his hands. "Yeah, well, that is a problem," the younger man admitted softly.

  Jim leaned forward, reached out, and touched tentatively at Blair's knee. "I want to help, Chief," he continued, not wanting to push Blair to anger, yet needing desperately to have his friend open up to him. "I'll help you in any way I can, you know that.... But I can't if you won't talk to me."

  Sandburg ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not so sure you can help me even if we do talk." He sighed deeply and looked across at Jim. "But I do need to tell you what's going on just the same."

  "Okay," Jim agreed. "I'm listening."

  Blair looked into Jim's concerned eyes. "I found something in the journal," he stated hesitantly. "Passages about a man your grandfather met."

  Jim's brow furrowed. "Nicholas Britt?"

  Blair's eyes widened. "Yes. Did you read the passages, too?"

  "No. Someone from the County Records Department called a few minutes before you drove up regarding the location of his grave." He frowned. "Who was this man, Chief?"

  "He...he was your grandfather's guide," Blair whispered.

  "What?" Jim blurted out, his heart rate doubling in an instant. "That's impossible. My grandfather didn't have a guide."

  Blair met his gaze, held it. "Oh, yes, Jim, he did."

  Ellison blinked, momentarily rendered speechless by this new bit of information. "But that's not possible," he reasoned after several seconds. "He had no control over his senses. They...they drove him insane, Chief...."

  "I know," Blair admitted sadly. "I know this is a surprise...."

  "Surprise?!" Jim repeated incredulously. He stared at Blair, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Chief. It's just that...I had no idea!" He closed his eyes briefly, took a deep, calming breath. "I read some of what my grandfather went through at...at the end. So to know that he had a guide...let's just say that's the last thing I expected you to tell me."

  "It was in the middle part of the journal," Blair explained. "Your grandfather only mentioned him a few times. But he was your grandfather's guide, Jim. I'm sure of it."

  Slowly, softly, Blair filled him in on all he had read, all he had found out during the day. As Blair told the story, Jim paced the living area, quiet and thoughtful as his partner related the story of Nicholas Britt, of the man who could have saved his grandfather's sanity, his very life. By the time the story had drawn to a close, Jim was seated beside Sandburg on the couch, eyes closed, his head resting on the cushion at his back.

  "You okay, man?" Blair's concerned voice reached through his roiling thoughts.

  Jim blinked his eyes open, stared up at the beamed ceiling. "Yeah," he breathed. "I just keep thinking about my grandfather. What a difference it would have made if Nicholas Britt had lived." Turning his head, he looked over at Blair. "What a waste, Chief," he said bitterly. "Everything could have been so different...."

  "I know," Blair breathed out. Frowning, he shifted to face Jim. Slowly, he reached over and took one of the sentinel's hands in his own. "Jim," he began, dropping his gaze, "there's something else you need to know. Everything I did today, everything I found out.... Well, I hoped it would show me that someone besides Nicholas Britt was able to come along and help your grandfather." He swallowed deeply. "But that wasn't the case. Jim, your grandfather only had one guide...one man who could help him." He closed his eyes, held more tightly to Jim's hand. "Like you have me," he whispered, his voice sentinel-soft.

  Jim squeezed at Blair's hand, traced his thumb softly back and forth across his partner's trembling fingers. So there it is...the thing that's been bothering him. The admission was no surprise to Jim-he was simply grateful that Blair had finally come to a point where he could voice his fear. He waited patiently, silently, until Blair raised his eyes and looked up at him again. He met the troubled gaze with a warm smile and once again squeezed at the hand he held. "That doesn't surprise you, does it, Chief?" he asked quietly. "That a sentinel has only one guide?"

  Blair swallowed deeply, shook his head. "Not really. All the evidence and experience I've had over the past several months has pointed to it, but...." He paused, looked at Jim, his eyes seeking understanding. "I just didn't want it to be true, Jim. I'm sorry, but I didn't want to be the only one who can help you."

  "And I don't want there to be anyone else besides you." Jim smiled lightly at Blair's expression of exasperation. "I know, I know, that's not want you want to hear right now. But it's the truth, Chief."

  Blair pulled his hand from Jim's, reached up and ran his fingers nervously through his hair, shaking his head. "But don't you see the problem here, Jim?" He gazed steadily at his partner, his blue eyes clouded with worry. "Because if it's true that every sentinel has only one guide-and it has become quite evident to me that it is true-then your options for continued control, even sanity, are severely limited. And to be honest with you, that scares the hell out of me."

  "Why?" he questioned, spreading his hands.

  Blair looked at him, dumbfounded by the question. "Why?" he repeated. "Because if something happens to me, you're screwed! You can't function." He gestured impatiently at the journal. "You read what happened to your grandfather, man! You have to know that could happen to you. And I hate-hate-the idea that your well-being, your very sanity, is totally tied up in me." Pushing up from the couch, Sandburg paced past Jim to the windows, his gaze turned toward the city lights. "I hate the idea that you're stuck with me and only me," he finished softly.

  Slowly, Jim rose and crossed to his guide, stopping behind him. "Sandburg," he began softly, his hands coming to rest on Blair's shoulders. He sought and found Blair's gaze in the reflection of the window before them. "First of all, I do not feel stuck with you. You're my friend, my partner, and I enjoy your company. As for the rest.... I guess I just don't worry about that part of it." His hands squeezed gently. "Maybe it's naïve of me, but I just believe that as long as I need you, you'll be there for me. And believing that-knowing that-gives me peace."

  Blair turned and looked up at him. "I just don't see how it can, Jim. With everything that's happened to us, all the close calls.... I just don't see how you can believe that I'll always be he
re."

  Jim shook his head. "Chief," he began softly, his eyes searching Blair's, "I want you to know-need you to know-that if it comes down to it, I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and by my side."

  Blair stared at him, his brows creased in confusion. "I know that, Jim," he stated with conviction. "But that's not the issue here."

  "I think it is." Stepping closer, Jim reached out and gripped Blair by the upper arms, holding him firmly in place. "Chief, it's my job that puts you in these dangerous situations. If I were in a safer line of work, you wouldn't be having the fears you're having right now, would you?"

  Blair was silent, clearly thinking, pondering where Jim's line of reasoning was going. "Would you?" Jim pressed.

  "I...I guess not...."

  "So a big part of the problem here seems to be my job," Jim concluded. His grip on Blair's arms tightened ever so slightly. "So I'm telling you right now, Chief," he spoke low, evenly, "that if the thought of being killed on my job and having to leave me alone with these senses really scares you that much, I'll quit the force and do something else."

  Beneath his hands, Sandburg's body tensed. Blair's eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again. "Jim," he croaked out at last, "no, Jim. I would never ask you to do that. I know how much you love your job. It's a part of who you are."

  Jim shook his head. "It's what I do, Blair, not who I am. It's an important part of my life, yes, but you're a bigger part." He raised one hand to Blair's cheek, rested it there. "You're the single most important part," he finished softly, his voice rough with emotion.

  Blair swallowed hard, shook his head, blinked against the tears that were now standing in his eyes. "Jim," he choked out, but couldn't manage anything beyond that.

  "Blair," Jim continued quietly, dropping his hand away from Blair's face, gripping his arm again, "if there's anything I've learned from all the losses in my life, it's that there are no guarantees. We all hope that the people we love will be with us forever but we can never know that. Chief," he whispered, "you need to look at it this way-we may have a lifetime together or we may have only a few days. And we can either spend that time-however long it may be-worrying about what's going to happen, or we can spend it enjoying one another, accepting the role we play in one another's life." He shifted a bit, smiled down at his partner. "Now, I don't know about you, Chief, but I'd rather spend our time enjoying what we have instead of worrying about things over which we have no control."

  Sandburg looked at him, eyes imploring, seeking understanding. "That all sounds good, Jim. It does." He shrugged slightly. "But saying the words and living by them...those are two different things, man."

  Jim nodded slowly. "I know," he agreed softly. "And I know what it is to be afraid. But I also know that you and I have a choice-we can let our fears stop us from accepting what we were meant to be or we can put those fears in their proper place and go forward. You taught me that," he finished with a soft smile.

  "Yeah?" A slow grin-and the first hint of a move toward acceptance-spread across Blair's expressive features. "I taught you that, huh?"

  "Yes, you did." Jim watched his partner, studied the man who meant so much to him, and slowly the smile faded from his face, replaced by caring concern. Gently, he reached out and took Blair's face in his hands. "Chief," he whispered, "I told you once that you're the bravest man I've ever met." He stroked at Blair's cheeks, saw the moisture again welling up in the blue eyes. "And I still believe that. Not once, in all the years we've lived and worked together, have I ever seen you sit back and let your fears call the shots. Don't start letting them call the shots now."

  Blair nodded, sniffing lightly. "It's just that it's such a big responsibility, knowing I'm you're only guide. And Jim..." He paused briefly, biting at his trembling lower lip. "I don't fear something happening to me as much as I fear for you. I just don't want anything to happen to you because of me."

  "I know." Jim ran his hands across Blair's hair before bringing them to rest against the younger man's shoulders. "And I understand-more than you think I do." He squeezed Sandburg's trembling shoulders. "Because it's the same fear I feel every time I take you out into the field with me."

  "Jim, it's not the same--"

  "It's exactly the same," Jim cut in, his voice overriding Blair's. "For five years, I've taken you out on the streets with me, asked you to follow me into one dangerous situation after another. And each time, I did the best I could to protect you, prayed that we'd both be kept safe, both be able to come home at the end of the day. But I worried, Chief. I worried every single time. I still do," he finished softly.

  "It's natural to worry about the people we care about," Blair whispered.

  Jim nodded. "But we can't let that worry stop us. And Blair, when you really think about it, what has changed here?" He smiled warmly at his guide. "Haven't we been watching each other's backs and making sure we come home in one piece at the end of the day all along? So the fact that you're my guide, my only guide, doesn't really change things all that much, does it?"

  Blair stared up at Jim, unblinking. Then, reaching out, he gently lay his hands against the detective's chest. As he stared up at his partner, a single tear escaped his eyes, trailing slowly down his cheek. "I'm going to do my best to keep protecting you," he promised. "And Jim, I just want you to know.... Being your friend and your guide.... Well, those are the most important, the most cherished parts of my life."

  Jim smiled, blinked against his own rising emotions, then wrapped his hands around Blair's where they rested against his chest. "I know that, Chief," he said, his voice soft and low. "I've always known that."

  The tears Blair had been holding back finally broke free. Pulling his hands from beneath Jim's, he wiped at his damp cheeks, smiling through his emotions. "I won't let you down," he whispered huskily. Then stepping closer, Blair slipped his arms around his partner and hugged him close. "I promise."

  Jim rested his cheek against the top of Blair's head and tightened his arms around him, returning his partner's warm embrace. "You never have, buddy," he whispered into the soft curls against his face. "Not once." He drew Blair even closer and they stood together, content just to be with each other, neither willing to break the physical manifestation of the deep and strong bond that had long ago been so unexpectedly forged between them.

  "So," Jim whispered after a time, "am I to take this to mean that you're going to be able to accept being my one and only guide?"

  Blair managed a small laugh, the sound muffled against Jim's chest. But his words reached the sentinel's ears loud and clear: "Guess I'm going to have to, man. No one else would put up with you."

  Jim laughed out loud as he moved back a bit and smiled down into Blair's eyes. "I'm sure you're right about that."

  Blair shrugged one shoulder, his expression becoming more serious. "It may take me some time, Jim. I'll get there, I'm sure of it, but...well, it's a lot to grasp, you know? You understand?"

  Jim nodded, gave Blair a sympathetic grin. "I seem to recall a certain sentinel who had a misgiving or two about his destiny." He gave Blair a small wink. "I can guarantee you I understand."

  Conclusion

  A pre-autumn chill hung in the air, the soft wind cool but not uncomfortable. Jim sat on a granite bench in the old cemetery, his shoulder touching the man beside him, touching his guide.

  Before them lay the grave of Nicholas Britt. A simple headstone was engraved with the man's name, the dates of his birth and death, and one simple phrase: Taken too soon.

  Neither man spoke. An easy, comfortable silence enveloped them as they pondered the monumental difference that could have been made in so many lives if only Aaron Ellison's guide had lived long enough to help the sentinel. His sentinel.

  Jim shifted a bit, looked over at his partner. "I talked to my dad again this morning," he stated simply.

  Blair raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? Has he been reading the journal?"

  Jim nodded, returned h
is gaze to the grave. "We've decided to bring Stephen in on all this, let him know about Granddad, about the sentinel legacy."

  Beside him, Blair's heartbeat increased. Jim turned to find Blair studying him, eyes wide. "Do you think Stephen might have...."

  "The same abilities?" Jim shook his head. "No, I don't. There's never been anything to indicate that he does. But I think he needs to know what we found in the journal. It explains a lot about why Dad was as distant as he was."

  Blair nodded thoughtfully as his gaze shifted slowly to the ground. "Fear-based response," he concluded absently.

  Jim snorted. "A prominent trait in my family, it would seem."

  Blair chuckled, smiling widely. "But not anything that can't be overcome."

  It was Jim's turn to laugh. He sobered then, leaned more heavily against Blair's arm. "So what do you think, Sandburg?" he asked, elbowing his partner gently. "This isn't all about me, you know. You have a lot at stake in Stephen's knowing, too." He studied his friend, trying to gauge the younger man's reaction to his news. "I know you told me during our last camping trip that you thought Stephen should be told about my abilities. I need to know if you still feel that way."

  Blair nodded, confidence shining in the deep blue eyes. "Yes, I still believe he needs to know." He smiled suddenly and slapped Jim on the arm. "I'm just glad you came around to my way of thinking, man. Maybe I'm getting you trained after all."

  Jim huffed out an amused breath. "Yeah? Well don't get a swelled head just yet. Believe it or not, my father was the one who suggested we tell Stephen."

  "You're kidding!"

  "I'm dead serious. He felt that the situation with his father colored the way he raised us so much that maybe it would help Stephen understand a bit more if he knew the fears Dad had."

  "That's incredible."

  Jim chuckled. "Isn't it, though?"

  His guide gave him a brilliant smile. "You guys are going to be okay, Jim," he offered softly, certainty underscoring the words.