Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Happy Holidays, Clavally. Thanks for the good ideas and the wide latitude.

Blair pulled the Volvo into a parking space miraculously close to the door of their building. Jim got out with some difficulty, leaning more heavily on his cane than when they’d left earlier. The elevator was working -- another small miracle. Blair was hoping for a third; that the rest of the night would go smoothly. He wasn’t optimistic.

Jim limped over to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He silently offered another to Blair, who shook his head and put the tea kettle on instead.

"Are you hungry?” Blair asked. “I could throw together something. Or we could get delivery."

"Nah," Jim answered. "I’m bushed. I just want to find a game and sack out on the couch. Maybe later." He opened a bottle and shook out his pain meds, then washed them down with the beer.

"You really should…" Blair started, then paused and nodded. He’d stopped earning the right to tell Jim what to do a long time ago. He was just beginning to realize it. He put a tea bag in his mug and poured the boiling water over it.

Jim sat down on the couch and turned on the tv. Not looking at Blair, he asked, "Are you really not going to cut your hair?"

Blair stared at the back of Jim's head. "I'm not even sure I'm going to accept Simon's offer."

Jim stiffened. "You don't want to be my partner?"

"I don't know what I want. I walked into the precinct thinking I would be saying goodbye. Three days before that I was trying to stop Megan from bleeding out. And just before that I ended my career. Then you all spring this on me, something I never considered, or even thought was possible." Blair blew out a breath. "What do you think?"

Jim gave him a stiff, one-shoulder shrug. "It's your decision."

"Well, if it's my decision, then I need some time to figure it out." He poured the dregs of his tea down the drain. "Tomorrow, I have to finish cleaning out my office. Is it okay if I put everything in the storage space?"

That got Jim to turn towards him. "Of course. You live here." He hesitated. "You're still living here, aren't you?"

Blair nodded. "The last thing I need at the moment is one more change. I'm going to head in as early as possible. Less chance to run into anyone." He headed to his bedroom. "I'll see you in the morning." He turned at the door. "And Jim… thanks for the offer."

He stripped off his clothes and fell into bed. Despite the turmoil in his head, the exhaustion of the day carried him off to sleep.

Jim sighed and turned off the tv. He emptied the rest of the beer in the sink and put the bottle in the recycling bin. He made a bathroom stop then headed up to bed. It took him a long time to fall asleep.

Thursday

Blair opened his office door and looked around. Fortunately, he'd packed up most of his stuff and it was waiting in boxes next to a borrowed hand truck. He still needed to return all the artifacts he'd checked out over the years. The last thing he wanted was to be accused of stealing anything. Within an hour, he had everything catalogued. He made one trip to the main artifact office, dropping off the University's property and getting a receipt.

By the time he returned, the Anthro admin assistant was in. He pulled the handcart with his boxes out of his office and locked the door, handing her the key. She took it and looked up at him, her eyes a little shiny. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sandburg. I'm going to miss you."

"Thanks, Stephanie. Good luck with school and take care of yourself."

The storage room was stuffy and warm despite being in the building's basement. By the time Blair finished stacking the boxes against the far wall, then rearranging everything else in front of them, he was grimy and sweaty. When he entered the loft, Jim was already gone. With a start, Blair realized he was relieved. He still hadn't decided what to do about his change in circumstances.

He was just coming out of the shower when the phone rang. One of the last people he wanted to talk to. "Naomi," he said as he walked to his room to get dressed. "No, I'm pretty busy. … Today? … Okay. Half an hour at The World Gardens Café."

Naomi was already seated when Blair arrived. He watched her listlessly stirring her tea and could predict their conversation. He steeled himself and pushed through the door. When she noticed him, she stood and they hugged.

"I'm heading out to the ashram in Sausalito, but I wanted to see you before I left." When Blair said nothing, she added, "You look tired, sweetie."

"Yeah. Yesterday was long and I had to clean out my office today."

"Oh, Blair," she started, "I'm so—"

"Mom," he said, cutting her off and raising his hand to stop her, "We've been over this. You're sorry and I've forgiven you."

He took a deep breath, readying himself for what he would say next. "I wish you had listened to me. Had trusted me. I'm almost thirty and have lived on my own almost half my life. I screwed up by not password-protecting my laptop, but you screwed up because you thought you knew better about how I should live my life. God, Naomi, I knew you weren't happy I was working with cops, but it was my decision. What's worse, you didn't just affect me. People were hurt, Mom. People I care about. Luckily, no one died." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

Naomi nodded and when she looked up, he was glad to see that she was holding back her tears; satisfied to see her accept his reproof.

"Are you going to take the job with Jim?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. "I don't know. Simon won't be back for a few more days, so I have time to decide. It's an honorable career and they do good work. I think I could be happy. And, frankly, I need a job. I can't count on grants any longer.

"But I'm warning you as soon as I can put together enough money to hire a lawyer, I'm suing Sid and Berkshire Publishing for theft of my intellectual property. You'll probably be called as a witness."

Naomi pulled a small notepad and pen from her purse. "Here's Amelia Mayfield's number. I… I already told her a little bit about the situation."

"Mom! What did I just say?" Blair said, but this time with helpless exasperation.

Naomi put out her hands in protest. "I hear you, honey. I swear this is the last time. She says you should sue Rainier for wrongful termination and reinstatement." She reached back into her purse and handed him a piece of paper. "I can't undo what's done, but I can help you start on your new path. Whatever path you take."

Blair was staring at a cashier's check for $30,000, mute with surprise and shock.

Chapter Text

Fratello's Trattoria was quiet on a Thursday afternoon. The maître d' showed Blair to a secluded table, and he ordered a glass of the house red. He was perusing the menu when he heard a familiar voice.

"Blair."

Blair looked up. The voice was the only thing familiar about the man standing in front of him. That and the kind, blue eyes. Blair stood up and walked into the man's open arms. "Marcus," he whispered, falling into the bear hug he remembered. He pulled back. "Or is it Jackie?"

"Neither. It's Peter." He rubbed his face. "I'm surprised you recognized me without the beard. Even after two years, I feel naked."

"I almost didn't. You must have lost, what, 30 pounds?"

"Closer to 50. I loved the monastery, but all that praying didn't leave a lot of time for exercise."

"How are they?" Blair asked as they sat. "Jeremy didn't say much when I called to get in touch with you."

Peter looked pained. "It hasn't been easy for them, which is why I needed to leave. Not only was I the reason for all that sorrow, but my cover was effectively blown. Jeremy gives me occasional updates, but we've agreed staying separate is best. In any case, I've been busy testifying against the men who killed the brothers and others in the union." He stopped when the server appeared. They ordered their meal and more drinks. "So, enough about me. Tell me what I can do to help you."

Blair gave him a wry smile. "What makes you think I need help?"

"I've been busy, not deaf and blind. Once I returned to the world of newspapers and television, I was able to follow Jim's career and, as a result, yours. I knew there was something more to the story than what you shared at St. Sebastian's, but after your press conference I was able to put the pieces together. I was sorry it became such a mess."

Blair looked at his wine. "I think it was just a culmination of missteps we've taken, probably for close to a year."

"I've got time. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Through the meal Blair described the ups and downs of his time studying Jim, his excitement, his frustrations, his disappointments. He explained what happened with Alex and his near-death experience. He talked about the push-pull relationship he had with Jim, both personally and professionally. Where they differed on whether Jim's abilities were a miraculous gift or an incredible burden. He explained how he'd ended up as Jim's roommate and about the "one week" that ended up being three years.

Peter stayed silent, only occasionally interrupting to order drink refills. When it seemed Blair had finally finished, he spoke. "So, you started out with a professional relationship, almost like a contract. You would provide Jim with knowledge and instruction about his… condition, and he would allow you to observe and measure his abilities. The end result would be you obtained data which would allow you to complete your dissertation and he would learn skills and control." Blair nodded.

"But somewhere along the way, you, in anthropological vernacular, 'went native'. It was more convenient for you two to work closely together and over time you became friends. I'm not going to second guess your choices. But what I saw two years ago and what you've admitted is that Jim has been in control for quite some time. It doesn't sound like either of you wanted to stop the status quo, but completing your dissertation might have done it. It's probably why anything that upset the apple cart, either turning in your first chapter or meeting another sentinel or Naomi sending your diss to Sid created such fireworks." Blair, looking miserable, nodded again.

"And now you're in the market for a different career. Are you thinking of accepting Jim's captain's offer? Is this a viable option for you?"

"I don't know. I really like and admire what they do, and I think I could be good at it. It's an honorable and worthwhile profession. But I don't know whether he offered it simply because he thinks Jim still needs me to function."

"And does he need you to function? What has Jim said?"

"No, he doesn't. At first, he needed me to help him figure out what was going on with his new abilities. After he got a handle on them, I gave suggestions for how to fine-tune and innovate them and I used my background to contribute ideas and viewpoints on cases. Despite the rumors, we're not joined at the hip. I had responsibilities at Rainier that kept me away from the precinct a lot." He sighed. "I don't know how Jim feels. He didn't want to talk about it. I don't know whether he's agreeing to it because he feels guilty about overreacting or that I lost my job or what."

Blair stared into his drink. "When he brought me back from the dead, I was sure that meant we had a connection – more than friendship, more than attraction. That, somehow, we were bonded, or else how could he have done it? He's had other people die on him and he's never done that with anyone else. But when I tried to talk about it, he just shut me down. Then, when Naomi pulled that bonehead stunt, he blamed me, and he should have. I was at fault for not protecting him, as my informant and as my friend. But what hurt was that he could think I'd wanted it. That I'd colluded with her. He told me to take Sid's offer, that it was a great opportunity," Blair said, bitterly. "I don't know whether we can get through this. How can we be partners in any sense of the word if there's this… trust issue between us."

Peter reached out to cover Blair's hand with his own. "Your return is miraculous and it's understandably a turning point for you. But you can't control what anyone else feels about it. Only yourself. It sounds like you need to explore what this miracle means for you going forward. Jim may or may not be a part of it, but it shouldn't stop you from exploring the meaning of why you came back when so many others have not.

"I think the same applies to the rest of your life. If you want to be a cop, you should do it, either with Jim or not, either in Cascade or not. Go get your answers from Captain Banks first. That will help you make your decision." Blair nodded. "Now, is academia truly closed to you? It sounds like Rainier gave you a raw deal. Did they have the right to talk about your diss when you hadn't submitted it?"

"Actually, no. I've got an appointment with a lawyer about suing Berkshire for theft of intellectual property. I might have a case against wrongful termination with Rainier as well."

"That's good, that's good," Peter said, patting Blair's hand. "But lawyers are expensive. Will you be able to afford it? I've got some money squirreled away."

Blair clasped his hand. "Thank you. I appreciate that more than you know. Naomi must have been thinking along the same lines. She gave me enough money to get me through at least the end of the year. Enough to pay for the lawyer, to buy what I'll need for the academy. Even rent money if I have to move out."

"Do you have to move out?"

"I don't know. Jim wouldn't kick me out, but I don't know how comfortable it would be to stay."

"Blair, I know it seems overwhelming right now, but you know the saying about how to eat an elephant."

Blair snorted. "Yeah, one bite at a time. Okay, good advice. I'll start with Simon. If becoming a cop isn't feasible, I'll have to find an alternative." Blair signaled the waiter for the check. "This has been so helpful. I didn't have anyone as a sounding board." He pulled out his wallet and counted out bills. "I picked up a cell phone today," he said as he wrote down the number. "Is it okay if I stay in touch? I won't compromise you?"

"On the contrary, I look forward to hearing from you. I miss our talks." They stood up. "Since you got lunch, how about I buy dessert? A dish of ice cream, I think, to sweeten the day?" Blair nodded as they walked out.

When Blair arrived back at the loft, Jim wasn't there. He sighed, too tired from the day's events to guess where Jim might be. He dialed his cell phone and got his voicemail. "Hey, Jim. It's about 4 pm. I just wanted to update you. I'm going to talk to Simon to get details on the offer, but Rhonda didn't know when he'd be back. In the meantime, I've got some other things to straighten out, so I'll be in and out. I got a cell phone today -- 555-8523. I'll talk to you soon. Take care."

Thursday morning, Jim woke with a start. His leg was aching, and the antibiotics he'd been taking had given him a stomachache. He regretted not eating last night when Blair suggested it. Reaching out with his senses, he was not surprised Blair was already gone. Usually, Blair would mother hen him when he was sick or injured, but he didn't expect that would happen this time. He didn't deserve it, anyway. With perfect recall, he could see and hear every misstep each of them had made that brought them to their current situation.

He tried to dial down the pain, but he didn't have the patience. He dragged himself downstairs and took his meds, then showered and shaved, feeling better as the pain pills kicked in. He had a PT appointment in the afternoon and a mountain of paperwork waiting for him on his desk. Visiting Simon first sounded more palatable; especially as it gave him an excuse to stop by his favorite bakery.



Jim rang the doorbell. Daryl Banks opened the door. "Hi, Daryl, how's your dad doing?" He presented the pastry box. "I come bearing gifts."

"Hey, Jim," Daryl answered, taking the box. "Yesterday kind of wiped him out. He's in the den watching tv. Go on in; I'll bring coffee."

Jim stopped at the entrance of the spacious room and looked at his boss and friend sitting in a recliner. He did look more tired than the day before and Jim gave him a quick scan. No fever, normal heart rate, the smells of medicine but no infection. He pasted on a grin and walked fully into the room. "Slacking off, sir?"

"Jim!" Simon's voice boomed out at his usual volume. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Jim shrugged and sat on a couch. "Not much to do while I wait for my PT appointment. I thought I'd stop by."

"Glad you did." Simon used the remote to turn off the tv. "I'll get Daryl to make us some coffee."

"Already brewing," Daryl said as he walked in. He put the tray of pastries down on the coffee table and placed small dishes and napkins next to it. "Jim brought your favorite, Dad."

"Pineapple Danish," Simon said with a smile. "Great timing. I was getting a little peckish."

"So, Daryl, how's Duke? Have you decided on a major yet?"

"Oh, yeah. I got assigned a counselor right away. She walked me through my curriculum, including electives, for the next four years. I'm taking Law," he said, and Jim could hear the hint of pride.

"That's great," Jim said. "Don't forget to schedule in some fun, though."

Daryl laughed. "No way. They've got mixers scheduled and I've made friends. We've already gone to the beach. It's a lot different than here. Warmer. And they have amazing sand dunes." They heard a faint ding. "That's the coffee."

Daryl came back with a carafe and two mugs. "I'm going to the store. Are you going to be okay, Dad? I won't be long."

"Sure, sure," Simon said, making a shooing motion. "I'm fine. I don't plan to move from this chair, and I've got all I need right here," he waved at the coffee and pastries."

"I'll be here, too," Jim said. "Why don't you get out of the house for a bit?"

"Okay, thanks." Daryl said.

Simon leaned over to look at the tray. "These look great," he said, putting a huge Danish on one of the plates.

Jim rolled his eyes as he poured the coffee and handed a mug to Simon. "You know how much of a suck-up I am, sir."

Simon chuckled, then took a big bite and chewed, moaning with pleasure. He took a swallow of coffee, then put everything down. "While I appreciate you helping me break my diet, I suspect you have another motive. What's the word? Is Sandburg going to take the badge?"

"He hadn't decided last night and he went to Rainier this morning. He still needed to clean out his office."

"I made that offer yesterday afternoon. You're telling me you two haven't talked about it at all?" Jim looked away and shook his head. "Jim, I know this whole situation has been rough, but I can't believe you want him as a permanent partner if you're not solid. And you normally can't shut Sandburg up. Hasn't he given you any clue?"

"We haven't had time to unpack everything that went on." Jim stood up and limped toward a window, looking out. "God, Simon, the week before last everything was copacetic. Now it's all gone to shit and we're still trying to find all the pieces to pick up." He shook his head. "We both made mistakes."

"Well, find out how much time he needs to decide. If he's not going to be a cop, he might choose to leave Cascade entirely. Then you won't have to worry about it at all," he said with a shrug and picked up the Danish.

Jim turned to Simon with a scowl. "What, do you think that's all we meant to each other? That we can just walk away?"

"Do you?" Simon replied, returning his scowl. "Then you'd better open your eyes and open your mouth and start acting like you care for Blair as much as he cares for you. I've watched you two for years. You're closer to him than you ever were to Carolyn. Hell, you've lived with him longer. And he's changed, too. Haven't you noticed he doesn't go chasing women like a puppy? When was the last time he went out with anyone other than you? What, do you think someone throws away his damn life on the flimsy reason that he broke some academic rule?

"I would hate to see you two fall apart, but you might. Hell, I'd cheer if you went to couples' therapy. But, in the meantime, tell him I'll be in Monday. Have him come see me."

"I've got court Monday."

"Oh, really?" Simon asked sarcastically. "What a coincidence. It's a good day to keep your bat ears to yourself and let him have some quality time with his new boss. In the meantime, even if he takes the job, he'll be at the academy for months. You need to partner with someone else." He held up his hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know you wanted to go back to Lone Wolf Ellison. It's not going to happen. You don't need a regular partner – just snag whoever's available. It's time to start rebuilding on all fronts. Capish?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good, now, let's see what's on the tube."

Jim pulled into an open parking spot, noting Blair's Volvo wasn't anywhere in sight. He'd never made it into the precinct; his PT session was sufficiently grueling he just headed home. Besides a tough workout, Greg, his therapist, had given him a referral. Checking the time, he decided to call for an appointment.

He sensed Blair wasn't inside and spotted a note taped to the refrigerator door. He ignored it in favor of making a phone call. "Yes, I'd like to make an appointment with Dr. Garner. … As soon as possible. … Monday? Do you have something in the afternoon? … Great, thank you. What information do you need from me?"

Satisfied, he went over to read the note.

Jim snorted, wondering whether Blair was shacking up with an old girlfriend. Then he recalled Simon's words. Assuming things about Blair had contributed to their problems. Blair told him to call, which meant he probably wasn't bedding someone. Jim opened the refrigerator and realized they needed to do a grocery run. Maybe he'd suggest it to Blair; food shopping was a good, safe activity. For tonight, he'd order delivery.


Friday

Jim woke early Friday and decided to go into the precinct. He'd had a backlog of paperwork, even before Zeller did a header off the roof. At least there wouldn't be a trial, small mercies.

"Hey, Jim," H called out in his usual cheerful voice. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm healing. I thought I'd get some of my overdue paperwork in."

"Sorry, I couldn't help with that. Between all the wounded, we're a little short-handed."

"Yeah. I was talking to Simon yesterday. Maybe I could help you and Rafe, since I'm not field-ready yet."

H face split open into a big grin. "Sure, since you're offering." He walked over to his desk and picked up a big stack of folders. "I'll even get you some coffee," he said as he put them on Jim's desk.

Jim sighed and opened the top folder. It was going to be a long day.


Saturday

With a good night's sleep and a solid plan for the day, Jim started cleaning the loft. The weather was hot and bright, so he opened the windows and doors to air out the place. He scrubbed the bathroom to gleaming, then started on the kitchen. He'd just cleaned out the refrigerator in preparation for their shopping trip when Blair walked in the open door.

"Jeez, Jim," he complained, "you didn't have to declare nuclear war on the poor germs, did you?"

"I gave them a chance to leave peacefully, but they didn't take it," Jim answered with a smirk, grateful they could still banter. His hopes rose a little. "You look tired. I just made a fresh pot of coffee."

Blair perked up and immediately joined him. Jim poured him a cup and they both sat down at the kitchen table. "I'm starving," Blair said. "Is there anything to eat?"

"Sadly, no," Jim said. "I thought we'd go food shopping. We can stop by Molly's Nook for lunch first."

"Sounds good," Blair said, and Jim could hear the forced enthusiasm. So, Blair was trying, too.

"Okay, let me wash up and we'll head out."

A seven-bone roast was in the oven, emitting a delightfully homey smell. All the groceries were put away and both had showered. Jim could sense Blair's nervousness and tried again for normal. He pulled out two bottles of beer.

"I, uh, I think we should talk about where we go from here," Blair said hesitantly. "Unless you don't want to?"

"Chief… Blair. I think we have to. Do you want to start?"

"Yeah. I have a lot to share, so, just let me get through it." Jim nodded his assent. "Yesterday, I flew down to Portland to see a lawyer, an old friend of the family. She's filing a suit against Sid Graham and Berkshire Publishing for theft of intellectual property and illegally publishing it. She also suggested you might want to sue them yourself for the damage they caused. Invasion of privacy, harassing your family, causing you physical and mental harm. It's something to think about. I can give you her number or you can discuss it with your own attorney."

"Okay, I'll think about it."

"Next, I saw Naomi on Thursday. She left for California, and I don't expect to see her for a while."

Jim flinched. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. I love her, but I'm really pissed and let her know it. I think she's going to be meditating for a long time." Jim snorted. "Anyway, she gave me a chunk of money to keep me afloat while things settle. So, if you want me to move out, for whatever reason, I'm in a position to do so." He held up a hand to stop Jim from answering. "You don't have to decide right away. Just something to think about." Jim nodded his understanding.

"Monday I'm going to talk to Simon about his offer. I've got some questions about how it would work, since when I finish the academy, I won't be Detective grade. I'm hoping he has answers. But, before I do, I need to hear it from you. Do you really want me to be your partner? Or are you just doing this because I lost my job, and this is some kind of misguided guilt?" Blair stopped talking and Jim realized he'd asked questions and was waiting for answers.

"My turn?" Jim asked wryly. Blair nodded. "Okay, first of all, I don't want you to move out unless you want to. We've done well together. It's… nicer than I expected it to be when you moved in. And I've already got you house-broken, so…." Blair threw a pillow at him, which was Jim's intent. "I meant what I said at the hospital. Between the army and the PD, I've worked with a lot of people. I'd trust you more than any of them, except maybe Jack. I think with some formal training you could hold your own against anyone. So, yeah, I want you as my partner for purely selfish reasons. You always supported me, have always believed in me and you accepted me, warts and all. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Good, because I don't want to hear anything about that again." Jim paused. "I want to apologize for my part in making a bad situation worse. I didn't believe in you, or maybe I did but I didn't act like it. And I'm pissed at myself about it. I know you're going to give me some BS about fear-based responses, but that doesn't cut it any longer. I can't say we'll never have misunderstandings, but I don't want to have a knee-jerk reaction that makes things worse. I don't know how to fix it yet, but that's what I want to do for me."

Blair's eyes continued to widen as Jim talked. "Wow, Jim, thank you. That's great. And I know I've apologized, but I could have handled this so much better. I'm supposed to be the self-aware one and I screwed up. Maybe I can work on some things myself."

Jim smiled. "I know we have a lot of rebuilding to do, but can we put a pin in it for tonight? That roast smells like it's done and I'm about ready to shuck the hair shirt."

Blair laughed, the first real one Jim heard in weeks. "Sounds good. How about we eat and then watch the Jags lose?"

Sunday passed uneventfully. In the morning, Jim helped Blair work on his Physical Ability Test prerequisite for the academy. They packed a picnic lunch but, in deference to Jim's healing leg, they skipped their usual hike. Instead, they went to a local park, sharing some of their bread with the ducks.

Monday

Blair knocked on Simon's door and opened it after a gruff "Come in!" Blair entered and, at Simon's gesture, sat down.

"Should you be back at work?" Blair asked.

Simon shrugged. "I'm officially on light duty. I had to get out of the house. I sent Daryl back to college – his hovering was driving me crazy. Did you want coffee?" At Blair's nod, Simon pointedly slid over his own mug, which Blair took with a laugh. He brewed a fresh pot and poured two cups.

"So," Simon said, "I'm assuming you want to talk about my offer. Are you taking it?"

Blair looked at him seriously. "I want to thank you for the offer. I'm honored by it and I'm considering it, but I have some concerns."

"I have no doubt. What's on your mind?"

Blair took a deep breath and let it out. "First of all, I have to know if you're offering this to me because of me or because of Jim?"

Simon leaned back in his chair. "Answer this first. Can Jim work without you?"

Blair's eyes widened. "Of course, he can. He does it all the time."

"Okay, then listen up. I'm no good at this touchy-feely stuff, so don't expect me to say anything like this again. Jim proposed the idea, but I'm not offering you the badge because of Jim. If I hire you believing you can't do the job, I put your life, the lives of the rest of my team and any number of other people at risk. I would never do anything so irresponsible.

"I'm offering you the position because, even though you weren't officially part of the department, I've seen your work. You're smart and quick and bring a skill set we can use. You've provided a different outlook that has been frustrating at times but also damned helpful. Yes, it would be nice if Jim continued to partner with you, since you've done well together. But the offer is not a sop to make up for losing your job through your association with Jim." He scowled at Blair. "What are you grinning at?"

"You do touchy-feely pretty well. Thank you. Okay, then here are my next concerns." At Simon's nod, he said, "When I get out of the academy, I won't rank high enough to work at Major Crime. I'd need to be a detective second class. How could you justify hiring me?" Blair swallowed before continuing. "And I'm not sure how calling myself a fraud in public will affect things if I have to testify in court. Some others in the department might resent me for what I did to Jim. There've already been grumblings." He sighed. "I just see a lot of stumbling blocks to accepting your offer, much as I'd like to."

"Well," Simon drawled as he opened his desk drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. "Fortunately, they pay me the big bucks to deal with stumbling blocks. What do you think of this?" He handed Blair the paper.

Blair scanned it and his eyes widened. "Law Enforcement Consultant Level IV", he read aloud. "Must be able to conduct high level investigations, have communication and liaison skills appropriate to working with a wide variety of governmental, public, and private sector representatives; as well as with local community members and groups, foster cross-departmental cooperation—"

"Sounds right in your wheelhouse." Simon broke in. "There are a few holes you can fill in through specialized training and you'll still need to go through the academy. I think this should remove some of those roadblocks. The rest of the department will be exposed to you. I expect a lot of the grumbling will disappear once folks see what you can do. Since your official title is consultant and you'll report to me, being a member of Major Crime without being a detective won't be an issue. You won't be able to work full-time with Jim, which is why I had to make sure he could function without you. You'll basically be doing two jobs, but you've got experience with that already."

Simon pulled out a cigar and rolled it around in his fingers. "As to testifying in court, as senior partner, Jim will do most of it, anyway. But even if you're called, there's a difference between being less than truthful in daily life and committing willful perjury. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Actually, I'm working on that," Blair said, looking up at him. "I'm suing Berkshire Publishing for theft of intellectual property. My lawyer also thinks I have a good case against Rainier for wrongful termination. I'm hoping that will help clean up my reputation as well as allow me back into legitimate academia."

"Does that mean you want to go back to teaching?" Simon asked.

"No! I want this," he said, shaking the paper. "Now more than ever. But I want the option to get my PhD. Not at Rainier, too much history. But somewhere."

"Good," Simon said. "So, when do you start at the academy?"

"The first opportunity will be in August. There are two start dates. Both end in December."

"Great. Between now and then, let's get the details of the consultant position hammered out." Blair nodded. "Now, for the last stumbling block. When are you going to straighten things out with Jim?"

Blair rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, we've already started," he said sheepishly.

Jim finished court early, since the defendant took a plea deal. Disgruntled at having to dress up, he was at odds with how to spend the time until his appointment. He called the doctor's office to check for an earlier opening, and the receptionist assured him she would call. Knowing Blair was with Simon and heeding his boss's advice, he decided to avoid the precinct and instead visited a local park. He was pleasantly surprised when the doctor's office called, moving his appointment to 11. After filling out the required paperwork, he was ushered into her office.

"Detective Ellison, I'm Angela Garner. Please have a seat. What can I do for you?"

"I've been having some problems with my partner lately, and I think I could have handled things better." He stopped. "Is this all confidential?"

She nodded. "As soon as you filled out your paperwork, we set up a doctor-patient relationship. Even if you walk out of here right now, I can't tell anyone what's been said here." He visibly relaxed. "You've come this far, and you've already paid for an hour. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind."

An hour later, Jim walked out of the building. He had another appointment scheduled and a paper with his homework assignment clutched in his hand.

Chapter Text

With less than a week before Blair started at the academy, his to-do list grew long and urgent. Fortunately, Simon called Karl Pasco, a retired instructor who was certified to administer the Physical Ability Test prerequisite. Karl agreed to meet Blair that afternoon, so he could avoid another trip to Seattle. It took minutes for Blair to pass and for Karl to call in his results. After, Karl regaled Blair with stories about his career in the PD and at the academy. Simon also expedited Blair's application. By the time he left Karl's, Blair was accepted. Blair spent Tuesday shopping. The academy required special uniforms and equipment and the list was long. Blair also refreshed his personal wardrobe.

Wednesday found him washing and pressing everything, then doing some pre-emptive packing while he waited nervously for Jim to come home. They were going gun shopping.

Jim greeted the gun store owner, then immediately selected a gun and ammo. They went over to the holster section, where they tried a variety of styles, before selecting the one Blair found the most comfortable. Or, rather, the one least uncomfortable. He practiced pulling the gun and then turned it over in his hands. "This isn't the gun you use."

Jim nodded. "It's mandatory for rookies to use the Glock 17. Simon might be able to get a waiver so you can use something else, but this is what you're required to use at the academy." He watched Blair pull the Glock from the holster a few more times. "Ready to go to the range?" Blair nodded and paid for his purchases.

Although Blair had handled guns during their time together, he'd never done it with any real intent. He practiced holding his gun in standard stances, how to carry it when he moved, how to set and release the safety. As he fired, Jim advised him and he strengthened his grip to compensate for the kickback.

"You've got a good natural grip and your aim is good, too. Remember to keep both eyes open. Now, let's do some simulations." For this training exercise, Jim had Blair remove all the live ammo and insert blanks. They moved to the back part of the range. It was arranged to resemble a street, with buildings and cars in a realistic setup. They practiced ducking and weaving while pursuing an imaginary perp. Having followed Jim into real firefights, it didn't take much practice. The last thing they did before leaving the range was have Blair practice loading and firing a standard issue shotgun.

Thursday, he got the Volvo tuned up. He went again to the range while Jim was at work. He tried and failed to find a comfortable way to wear his holster.

Friday, he got his hair cut. Jim took him out for dinner to commiserate. Blair didn't have the heart to tell Jim he was actually tired of his long hair and didn't mind a bit.

"We have Fridays off," he said, "but I'm not sure I'll come back every weekend. I've got to complete training for the new job, and I might need to network with the other cadets. I'm going to be a lot older than most of them."

"Not necessarily," Jim replied. "Some will be like me, getting out of the service. But I take your point. Just let me know if you're staying there, so I don't envision you lying injured on the road."

"And you let me know if you need anything. Seattle isn't that far away. No keeping secrets." Jim nodded.


August

The Monday Blair started at the academy, Jim walked into Major Crime. He'd been cleared for full duty, although still under doctor's orders to return for a follow-up. Because he'd been on light duty the previous week, he'd cleaned up his backlog of paperwork, as well as H and Rafe's. When word of Jim's previously unknown skill at organization and report-writing spread, he'd been inundated with requests for help. He didn't mind. It kept him busy and the gentle joshing he took from the others did a lot to repair the hard feelings following the press conference.

But now, he was itching to get a case and go out in the field. Maybe he would see what Joel was up to. He usually teamed with Megan, but she was still recuperating. The room was empty; he was early enough even Rhonda wasn't in yet. He was heading to the break room to make some coffee when Henri walked in.

"Hey, H," Jim greeted and then really took notice of the other man. "You look terrible. Are you sick?"

"It's my mom," H replied, a hitch in his voice. "She had a heart attack. They're taking her into surgery now. My flight leaves in an hour. I just came in to sign some paperwork and then I'm out of here."

"Well, let's get it done. I'll take you to the airport. What else can I do?"

H swallowed. "Can you partner with Rafe until I get back? I know you two haven't really worked together—"

Jim reached out and put a hand on H's shoulder. "Don't worry about anything but your mom. We'll be fine. Now, let's get those things signed."

The squad room was full and bustling by the time Jim made it back from the airport. Rafe met them there in time to see H off and they'd strategized what to do while they waited. H promised to give Rafe regular updates.

When Rafe and Jim returned to Major Crime, Simon waved them into his office. "You two are officially together until H returns," he confirmed. "Jim, I thought you were going to float around while Sandburg was gone, but this changes things. Keep me updated on everything. And Rafe," he added.

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell H I'm praying for his mom." Simon waved them out.

"So," Jim said, "where do we start?"

Rafe looked at him with wide eyes. "Me?"

Jim nodded. "You're senior partner here. Fill me in and let's get going."

As Rafe explained their open cases, Jim realized he'd inadvertently become a dominant force in their squad. Rafe was a good detective and an equal partner with H, but immediately started deferring to Jim. Ruefully, Jim realized his close rate and getting Officer of the Year contributed to the perception and he didn't like it. One thing he thought might help would be taking the mystique out of the sentinel thing. As they investigated cases, Jim would quietly explain using his senses to get clues easily missed by forensics. He found it easier than expected to reveal them, especially when Rafe's reaction was awe rather than ridicule.

They were able to close two cases and get solid leads on two more. Friday found them getting a warrant from a judge for a wiretap and sitting down with the DA to answer questions on an upcoming trial. As they left the courthouse, Jim asked "Did you want to grab dinner? Wherever you like."

Rafe chose a seafood restaurant not far from the docks. It wasn't much to look at, but the menu was impressive. "So, what do you hear from Sandburg?" Rafe asked, after they'd ordered.

"Not much. He's settled in. So far, so good. He's joined a study group and he's busy. What's the latest word on H's mom?"

"She's out of danger, but they're keeping her in the hospital for observation because of her age. She'll be going to a rehab place for PT and OT after they release her. H isn't sure when he'll be back. I guess that means we'll be partners a little longer."

Jim shrugged and drank some wine. "I don't mind. We've done pretty well together."

Rafe was quiet for a few moments. "I have a confession. Before I joined Major Crime, I'd heard about your rep – your closure rate, your dedication and that you worked alone. When I got promoted so quickly, then Simon hired me, I thought that we could be partners. But you stayed alone. Then Sandburg came in. He wasn't even a cop and suddenly you had a partner. I was pissed." He picked up a piece of bread and played with it, not looking at Jim. "And then I got partnered with H and that was the best thing that ever happened to me. We really click. I understand now why you were with Sandburg. But even before that, I knew everything happened for a reason and I'm okay with it. Besides, H told me he thought you made a cute couple." He put the bread down and picked up his own wine glass and drank.

As Jim listened, he was amazed by Rafe's honesty and thought about what his shrink advised. Time for his own soul-baring. "When these senses first… manifested, back during the Switchman case, I thought I was going crazy. Sandburg had been studying people with hyper senses and recognized what was happening. I was so desperate; I didn't even do a background check on him – I just blindly followed what he was saying. And it worked. But I insisted he keep it a secret, to keep bad guys from finding out they could sabotage me." He paused. "But, also, I thought they were abnormal, freakish, and I didn't want to be ridiculed. I'm sorry I didn't tell you and the rest of the squad."

"Can you… are you still vulnerable? Is that why you still need Sandburg as a partner?"

Jim shrugged. "I guess someone could disable me with a dog whistle or something, but why bother when a bullet will do the same thing? I have them pretty much under control. And he's becoming my partner because he feels it's a good career and we have a good partnership." Jim raised his glass. "As do you."

Things were going better than Blair expected. His first two weeks at the academy passed in a blur and, more importantly, without incident. He was treated like any other cadet, both by his instructors and his classmates. He joined a study group. They were more than happy to have a former teacher and researcher as a member. He found a jogging partner and a mentor to improve his shooting skills.

On his first Friday, he traveled across Lake Washington to Bellevue to meet with Jake Silver, who was essentially his counterpart. When Blair expressed surprise that Bellevue had a consultant and Seattle did not, Jake just laughed.

"They haven't gotten with the program yet," he answered. "Seattle's a behemoth – big and set in their ways with a huge political hierarchy. Here, the City Council pays attention to public opinion. The public wants a good relationship with the city, which in turn will make the jobs of the police and other service providers easier and more relevant. But pulling all the diverse needs together requires a different skill set. That's where we come in."

Jake was generous with his time and advice, and they agreed to meet several more times while Blair was in Seattle.

September

Labor Day was like any other holiday for the PD. Despite not normally answering emergency calls, members of Major Crime and the other detective squads were always on call. The annual PD picnic took place, as usual, the last gasp of summer making the day hot and bright. The academy was also not on holiday – this was the first PD picnic Blair hadn't attended in three years. Jim was heartened to hear many people ask about Blair, even if it was just because they were looking for a good outfielder.

H showed up for the picnic, to many cheers and well wishes. Despite his success with Jim, Rafe was happy to have his partner back.

Blair was disappointed not to make it back to Cascade even once in the first three weeks. There was just too much to do. Despite not fully hammering out their differences, he found he missed Jim. They ended up calling each other, usually on the weekends. Jim shared the cases he worked on and kept him updated on their friends and colleagues. Blair told him about his academy experiences and meeting Jake.

It was mid-September when Blair got a call from Amelia Mayfield regarding his dispute with Rainier. He waited another week, just to ensure everything was official, and then called to make an appointment.

A tall, blond man approached Blair as he sat in the Anthropology Department's reception area of the University of Washington, Seattle Campus. "Mr. Sandburg, I'm Chancellor Travis Hoskins," he said, holding out his hand, which Blair quickly shook. "Why don't we speak in my office?"

"I'm sorry," Blair answered as he followed the Chancellor down several hallways. "I thought my appointment was with Dean Heller."

"It is. Because your circumstances are a little unusual, I wanted to get involved. You don't mind, do you?" Hoskins asked as he ushered Blair into an impressively large office.

"No, not at all," Blair answered, waiting for the other man to sit before he did.

"Cultural anthropology is a companionable enough field that most of the players are known, especially the active ones. You've regularly published comprehensive articles and your field reports are similarly impressive. The relationships you forged with the Kombai tree people paved the way for subsequent expeditions.

"In fact, the only blemish, so to speak, on your career is this recent controversy. Which appears to be resolved. My understanding is Rainier has retracted their allegations, issued an apology for your ill treatment and reinstated you both in the doctoral program and the faculty." Blair nodded assent. "That's quite an about face. Care to explain it?"

Blair shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm currently under a non-disclosure agreement. All I can say is I'm a member of Rainier in good standing and there shouldn't be any repercussions."

"If that's the case, why are you applying to our doctoral program instead of continuing there?"

"I've decided to change careers. I'm going into the law enforcement field. I'd like to get my doctorate in a field of anthropology that complements it. Since I won't have time to teach, I thought a clean break from Rainier was best."

The Chancellor was silent for a few seconds, then picked up his phone and punched in a number. "Andy, we're ready for you." Minutes later, the door opened. "Mr. Sandburg, this is Dean Andrew Heller. Andy, thanks for allowing me to intrude. I have no issues." With that, Chancellor Hoskins left the room, closing the door behind him.

Dean Heller sat in the matching armchair next to Blair. "Mr. Sandburg, I received your application and have reviewed it. I have some questions.

Blair nodded. "I'll be glad to answer them."

"I understand you want to be admitted as a doctoral candidate only. You're not interested in joining our faculty, as you did at Rainier?"

"That's correct. I'm moving away from academia as a career, but I still want to earn a PhD in anthropology."

"I see. And what is the subject of your dissertation?"

"Well, actually I have two in development." Blair opened his attaché case and pulled out two papers, which he handed to the Dean. "The central hypothesis for my first dissertation is how the quality of evidence gathering at a crime scene can affect the capture of a perpetrator and ultimately the outcome of the trial. My second is a study of how, over time, the stresses of the job can cause a police unit to become a closed society and how that affects their behaviors, with each other and with the people they protect. They're both in progress and I'd frankly like some advice on which one to pursue."

Dean Heller read both papers, then looked up. "These are both acceptable subjects. Our Forensics Anthro Department is headed by Professor Jennifer Ballestero. She can advise you on the first one. Behavioral Ecology for the second one, I think. David Renfield runs that. I believe they both have office hours this afternoon. Why don't you come back around 2? I'll introduce you."

Blair looked at him, open-mouthed, then blinked. "That's it? I'm accepted?"

Heller stood up, smiling. "Don't look so surprised, Mr. Sandburg. We anthropologists are a friendly group. Eli Stoddard speaks highly of you. Welcome to UW."

Megan was taking longer to recover than Simon. Although she came into work, the muscle damage from Zeller's specialized bullet was considerable. After two weeks of desk duty, she opted to return to Australia until she was fully healed. Two days before she left, she cornered Jim. "I want to talk to you," she said, meaningfully.

Jim didn't sigh, but he wanted to. After a rocky start, he and Megan had come to an accord, though she'd taken a shine to Blair right away. Blair theorized Jim and Megan were too much alike and Jim couldn't really argue the point. "Let's grab lunch," he suggested.

After they had ordered, she leaned forward and glared. "I talked to Sandy. He told me to lay off, but—"

"No, no, feel free, Connor," Jim interrupted and was surprised to realize he meant it. He wanted as many people in Blair's corner as possible and Megan had always been that. "In fact, I'll beat you to it. You think I don't appreciate Blair, that I take advantage of him, that I was, in your delightful lingo, an arse wipe for doubting his loyalty." She nodded at him, eyes wide. "Well, join the club."

Megan stared at him for a moment. "Well, that's a surprise." She took a drink of her iced tea. "Sandy seems to be doing well. He refused to say anything, but I hope you two can make a go of it. He deserves better."

"I'm working on it," Jim said, as he took a sip of his own drink. "And, yeah, he does."

October

With Megan gone for an undetermined period, it seemed natural for Jim to pair up with Joel. They'd worked together off and on both in Major Crime and when Joel was captain of the Bomb Squad. Simon put out feelers for a possible replacement for Megan, and workloads were shifted between squads while they waited for Blair's return.

Joel was curious and fascinated by Jim's abilities, but also easily accepting. He seemed to chalk it up to any natural ability, like perfect pitch or a chef's palate. He cheerfully employed Jim's senses to help them follow leads and close cases. He wasn't shy about asking how Blair helped Jim and employed similar techniques.

Joel invited Jim over for dinner one night and Jim accepted. He was tired of his own cooking and Evelyn, Joel's wife, was an excellent cook. After dinner, he and Joel sat out on their veranda, sipping wine.

"Why haven't you asked why I kept my senses secret?" Jim asked quietly. "Everyone else has."

Joel smiled and shrugged. "Everyone has secrets. I was in the military, too, so I expect we have more than most." He looked out over the mountains. "I knew there was something special about you and Blair, even if I didn't know the details. Both of you have helped me through some tough times. I think it would be rude to hold a grudge after all the craziness we've been through. How's he doing?"

"Good. He's about halfway through the program. He's made some good connections, including with his counterpart in Bellevue. And he's been accepted into the doctoral program at UW. He's working on a new dissertation."

"Oh," Joel said, his voice holding a touch of concern. "Does that mean he's going back to teaching?"

Jim shook his head. "No. He's really excited about the new position and has lots of plans." He huffed out a laugh. "No surprise there. He just wants to get his PhD. He told Henri after he gets it, H will need to call him 'Doctor Hairboy'."

Joel relaxed. "Okay, that's good, then. You two sure belong together."

They sat quietly and watched the sun set.

"The mayor is throwing a charity event for Halloween," Jim said during their weekly phone call.

"Good for him."

"He wants a PD presence. Simon agreed."

"Oh, ho! And Cop of the Year three years running is expected to be in attendance? Have fun!"

"Laugh it up. You're coming too."

"What? I really don't think—"

"His Honor wants to brag about how Cascade is cutting edge. We have a newly minted Law Enforcement Consultant and Seattle doesn't." When Blair stayed silent, he added, "Welcome to politics. Better get used to it."

"Dare I ask, is it a costume party?"

"Oh, yeah, with a theme. It's the Governor's wife's favorite charity and you know what a suck-up the mayor is."

"Okay, what is it?"

"Wait a minute; let me get the invite." Jim opened it and read, "It's R.I.F. Reading is Fundamental."

"You're kidding. That's a great organization."

"Yeah, it is. Get this. They want people to dress as children's book characters." He winced as Blair hooted a laugh.

"Have you picked out a costume yet?"

"No."

"Oh, let me, please. I would love to dress you."

Jim sighed. "Okay, but no body paint or makeup. It makes my skin itch. Don't make me regret this."

In the end, with the help of a seamstress friend of Blair's, it only took blue wigs and fire engine red jogging suits to transform Major Crime's newest partners into Thing One and Thing Two. As they regarded themselves in her full-length mirror, Blair said brightly, "No body paint or makeup, as requested." Jim rolled his eyes but nodded.

As they approached the ballroom, Jim could feel Blair's anxiety coming off in waves. He knocked their shoulders together, saying quietly, "Hey, no reason to be nervous. You're the new hotshot consultant and we look good. Take a deep breath, Sandburg, and smile."

They entered and were almost immediately greeted by the mayor's delighted chief of staff, who was dressed as The Cat in the Hat. He ferried them around, introducing them to various VIPs and inadvertently dissipating Blair's worry.

As Jim looked over at their boss, Simon, dressed as Sherlock Holmes, touched the brim of his deerstalker cap in salute. A good time was had by all.

Chapter Text

November

The academy was closed for Veterans Day. As it fell on a Thursday and Blair had Fridays off, he headed to Cascade Wednesday night to spend the long weekend with Jim. They normally attended local veteran activities, but Jim said he wanted to do something else.

The first difference Blair noticed was Jim coming downstairs dressed in his best suit, rather than his Army Ranger uniform. Deciding not to mention anything, Blair asked, "Did you want breakfast?"

Jim shook his head. "Not hungry. Maybe later." Jim was silent a moment. "I'm going to visit Victor Sarris' grave. He's at Tahoma National Cemetery in Kent. I usually go on the anniversary of his death, but I want to visit his daughter." He looked down at his clothes. "I didn't want to upset her by wearing my uniform."

"Did you want to go by yourself?"

"No," he answered quickly. "Unless it would upset you. She held you hostage, after all."

Blair smiled gently. "My first time. And the first time you rescued me. I'd be honored to go with you."

"It's been five years since she was discharged from that psych hospital. A couple of months later, she set off her first bomb. I always wondered whether all that death and destruction could have been prevented if she'd gotten better care."

Blair nodded. "Our veterans deserve better. I guess today should remind us of that." He reached out to squeeze Jim's arm before letting go. "Where is she?"

"At WCCW in Gig Harbor. We should be done by midday."

The Washington Corrections Center for Women was small compared to the state's men's prisons, but it was no less depressing. After his visit, they found a nearby park to decompress. Jim shared his conversation with her, which wasn't much. "She hadn't heard about Oliver and didn't really seem to care. They have her medicated, Chief. That feisty little girl Vic talked about is gone. There's not much for the inmates to do except sit around and watch tv."

"You know, maybe this is something we could sic Naomi on. Conditions like cleanliness might no longer be a problem, but the lack of opportunities for self-improvement in our prison systems is shocking. I'll email her tonight and see what she can do."

Jim gave Blair a fond smile. "That'd be great. In the meantime, I got a list of permissible items she can receive. It includes books, so maybe we could pick out some good ones." Blair nodded.

They spent the rest of the weekend doing activities they enjoyed: hiking, fishing and catching up on movies they'd missed. On Saturday night, Jim said, "Thanksgiving's coming up. Dad invited us."

"You've been seeing your dad?" Blair asked in surprise. "And 'us' as in you and me?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, doofus, that's what 'us' usually means. I went to see him right after you started at the academy. We had a heart-to-heart and now we have lunch or something every couple of weeks. Steven and his family are coming, and Sally is going to cook up a storm."

Blair's eyes lit up. "Oh, I wouldn't miss this for anything. What are we going to bring?"

It was a Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving at the Ellison household--if Norman Rockwell had Peking Duck instead of turkey, stir-fried eggplant instead of green bean casserole, and dumplings of all shapes and sizes. Steven roped them into playing Charades and Sally shared her Ma Lai Go cake recipe with Blair.

As they were carrying Blair's things to the car the following Sunday for his trip back to Seattle, Jim said, "Thursday wasn't too bad."

"Are you kidding? That was so much fun. Steve's kids are awesome, and the food was way better than any Thanksgiving I've ever had."

"Speaking of great food, Hanukkah is coming up. Want to celebrate this year? I wouldn't mind learning to make latkes."

Blair frowned, then shook his head. "It's this Friday. I postponed some appointments because I was here this weekend." He could see Jim's look of disappointment, and it made his heart twist a little. "But Hannukah is eight days. I can make it the following weekend and we'll close it out together." Jim nodded but stayed quiet. "Look, it'll be great. I'll make Bubbie's latkes, and we'll get brisket and sides from Wexler's deli. I'll email you a list. Oh, and we can use the hanukiah Naomi sent last year. It was her grandfather's. It's in a box under my desk. If you get everything prepped, I'll pull it together when I get there."

Jim nodded and smiled. "That'll be great, Chief."

December

With surprising efficiency, Blair's email showed up Sunday night. In it, he noted all the traditional foods and where to find them, the list of ingredients for latkes, including the type of potato and oil, and a place to pick up candles. As he read, Jim had an idea and picked up the phone. "Simon… yeah, sorry about that…. I know this is short notice, but can I have Friday off? It doesn't have to be all day. I just need to break away in the afternoon. ... Yeah. It's the first night of Hanukkah. ... Great. ... Thanks, I will."

Now to put together his plan.

Driving to Seattle Friday afternoon, Jim began to wonder if this was a good idea. Maybe Blair would be out with friends tonight, or maybe he decided to visit a temple who knows where. Or maybe he was throwing a Hannukah party at his place and Jim's surprise would be unwelcome.

But when he parked at the Richardson Motel Extended Stay apartments and knocked on 1C, he heard just one heartbeat; the only one he wanted to hear. "Just a minute," he heard Blair call out and then the door opened.

"Jim," Blair said in surprise. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay? Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Jim answered and held up two giant grocery bags. "At least I hope not. I thought, since you couldn't come home for Hanukkah, I'd bring it to you." He shoved the bags at Blair, who took one and looked inside.

"This is incredible," Blair said as he motioned Jim inside. He put the bag on the dining table and started pulling out containers, reading the contents: "knishes, kugel—"

"Two kinds, sweet and savory," Jim explained.

"…sufganiyot, carrot tzimmes, oh, wow, matzo ball soup, and look at this challah," he exclaimed. "And chocolate babka? That was my favorite as a kid. The only time Naomi allowed real chocolate."

Meanwhile, Jim opened the other bag and pulled out a beef brisket and a foil-covered container, which he set down and peeled open. "And latkes, with sour cream and applesauce. Not as good as your bubbie's, but—"

Blair threw himself into Jim's arms. "Oh, this is so wonderful. I could kiss you."

"Please do."

And, suddenly, Blair was looking up and Jim was staring down at him with a look he'd longed to see. Blair stretched up, tentatively, and Jim closed the distance. They kissed, softly at first, then more intensely.

Stopping for a breath, Blair asked, "This is for real? It's not some Hannukah thing that's going to disappear in a week?"

"This is for real, if you want it. I think I've wanted it for a long time, but I was just too stupid or scared to recognize it." Jim took Blair's hand in his and held it to his chest. "Blair, I'm sorry for everything. For every time I doubted and said something hurtful or—"

Blair pulled him down for another kiss. "Apology accepted, and ditto. We can hash it all out later, but right now I don't want to kill the mood."

Jim laughed. "I'm okay with that." He looked at the food. "I wasn't sure if you really wanted to celebrate Hanukkah or if it was just me."

Blair snorted and pointed to an end table placed next to the front window. On it were eight tea lights. Then he walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a container. "Brisket sandwich," he explained. "You planted the idea, so I wanted to honor it. I figured I've got a lot – we've got a lot – to celebrate after a very tough year. Now, how about we wash up, since it's just about sunset. We can light the candles and I'll recite the prayers."

"Oh, shit, I forgot," Jim said and hurried out the door. He walked back in carrying Blair's great-grandfather's hanukiah, polished and gleaming, and a box of candles.

They lay in bed, watching the shamash and the first candle guttering out. They were sticky and sweaty and sated. Jim reached down to pick up a blanket that had fallen and draped it over them, squeezing Blair in his arms.

Blair snuggled closer. "You’re the best Hanukkah present I ever got," he said dreamily.

"Hm, ditto," Jim replied.

Blair smacked him lightly. "I'm the only Hanukkah present you ever got, right?"

"Yeah, therefore you're the best." Jim kissed the top of his head. "I miss your hair," he admitted.

Blair chuffed out a laugh. "I would always cut it right before an expedition. Easier to deal with and less likely for critters to find a home. It's been a nice change to have it short again. I can grow it back if you like."

"Maybe. It changes your face entirely."

"A new look might be good, at least for a while. I'll think about it." Jim's stomach growled and Blair laughed. "I was going to ask what you wanted to do next, but I think I got my answer. How about we clean up, chow down and come back here for round two?"

Saturday morning found them sleep-deprived, but otherwise pleased with the new development. With less than three weeks until graduation, Blair was busy, and they decided to meet at noon. He left for his study group, taking the sufganiyot and babka with him. Jim made toast from the challah and strolled around campus. The firing range was run by a retired Cascade PD sergeant he knew, so he took the opportunity to chat and complete his yearly firearms recertification.

Blair took Jim to his favorite sushi spot for a quick lunch, then it was back to the library to work on a paper while Jim ferried reference books back and forth. By mid-afternoon, Blair declared his work done for the day and they headed back to his apartment. And promptly fell into bed.

This time, they moved more slowly and deliberately, finding the best spots to wring maximum satisfaction and quiet passion. As daylight started to fade, they shared a shower, then dressed and prepared the candles. Once again, Blair recited the ancient words. They watched the candles burn down, then moved to the kitchen to make their meal of leftovers.

"So," Blair asked as he prepared some mulled wine, "I don't want to spoil the mood, but I have to ask. What happened? This kind of came out of the blue."

Jim frowned. "I hope not entirely out of the blue."

"No, not entirely. I've been getting vibes recently. Things you'd say during our phone calls made me think. But you've got to admit, it's a big change from four months ago."

Jim nodded. He took a deep breath and let it out. "After all that crap went down and you didn't leave, you still accepted Simon's offer despite everything, I knew I had to change if it was going to work out. So, I went to see a shrink." At Blair's open-mouthed stare, Jim shrugged. "She's been helping me work on my… less than stellar qualities. I realized I was keeping you at arm's length because I was afraid you'd leave and I'd get hurt. Doing that stopped me from even trying for happiness. Now, I'm finally ready to take a chance." Blair's smile was so soft and warm, Jim was glad he went through the painful confession.

"Wow, as someone who's been in therapy on and off all my life, I gotta say you've made amazing progress. Thank you for telling me. I know you're doing it for you, but it's also for me. I'm ready to deal with a few of my own issues. Maybe I can see your therapist. Or maybe we see her together sometimes."

Jim huffed a laugh. "Simon suggested couples therapy back in August when we weren't talking to each other. It's what gave me the idea."

Blair poured the wine into mugs, then handed one to Jim. They clinked and drank. "So, we're committed. What do we do next?"

"Keep doing what we're doing? We seem to be on a great trajectory."

"Yeah, but how is this going to work? Are we going to be out at the station? Are we allowed to work together if we're a couple? Are we going to get hassled? Or worse?"

"There might be a few assholes to deal with, but there are city employees, including two cops, who are out. As far as I know, there've been no threats. I think with Simon's blessing we could skirt around the partners working together thing, since we're not technically partners. What do you think we should do?"

"I'd like to test the waters first. Maybe come out to our colleagues in Major Crime and see their reactions."

"Chief, I hate to tell you, but most of Major Crime thinks we're all but married."

"You're kidding!"

Jim shook his head. "I already told you about Simon's couples therapy crack. Actually, that was my first clue. I learned from Rafe that at one point H thought we were a cute couple. Before she left, Megan threatened to break my legs if I broke your heart."

Jim took Blair's hand. "I know I've had more time to think about this, so I'm just going to put this out there. I'm not getting any younger and I've done my bit for king and country. If it's a choice between being with you and anything else, I'm opting for you. For us.

"If you want this job and we can't be together at work, then I'll do something else. If you want to finish your PhD and pursue a different career, I'll support you. When you're the prestigious and highly paid Doctor Sandburg, I'll stay home and cook and take care of the kids." Blair huffed out a laugh, but it was a little watery. "If we can't find or make our happiness here, we can move. Anywhere we go, there will be a tribe to protect." He reached out to cup Blair's face. "Maybe you thought you didn't have any choices four months ago, but I want you to know you have them now."

On Sunday, Jim stayed until after the candles were lit and burnt down, then stayed a little longer. Neither wanted to part when the change in their relationship was so new. "Have you thought about what you want?" Jim asked softly as they lay together in bed.

"As you said, we're on a pretty good trajectory. I want to complete the academy, since I'm almost done. And I want to talk with my diss advisor to check my progress. There was no sense of urgency to finish, but there might be now. Better to get an evaluation while I'm still in Seattle, anyway. Maybe you could talk to Simon? Ask his opinion about what reception we could face?"

Jim nodded. "He'll know the politics of it, and we'll know what kind of support we can expect from him. Are you still planning to come home Friday?"

"Yeah, unless something comes up." He smiled shyly. "I can’t wait to play in that nice, big bed of yours. Ours."

"Ours," Jim agreed. "We've also got to figure out what to do about the holidays. Solstice and Christmas and New Year's. We should work out who we're going to tell before then."

Blair looked at the clock on his side table. "You should get going. How about you shower, and I'll pack food so you've got something to eat when you get home?"

"Why don't we shower together? I can pick up Wonderburger on the road."

Blair smacked Jim's chest. "You'll be here 'til tomorrow if we start down that road. And cut out the Wonderburgers. I want you to live a long time with unclogged arteries."

Jim saluted. "Yes, sir!" then leaned in for a passionate kiss. "I love that you care about my arteries." He got up and shamelessly paraded naked to the bathroom.

In the end, Blair didn't make it home the following weekend, having too much to do. Blair called Jim Friday night to light the final candles and once more say the prayers. After, he shared his news. His diss committee met with him that morning and assured him he was on track to finish his degree in the new year.

Jim, in turn, told him Simon was supportive of their new relationship. As Jim predicted, they were not technically partners, so fraternization rules didn't apply. Simon was particularly smug that his solution was removing a stumbling block even Blair hadn't anticipated. "He says you owe him a steak dinner at the Metropolitan Grill."

Blair chuckled. "Fair enough. How about the rest of the squad?"

"All very supportive. Everyone thinks I'm more mellow because of your influence. I don't disagree."

"Ah, you sweet talker. So, everything is going to plan?"

"It is. I'll come the weekend before graduation, and we'll pack up everything except what you'll need for the last two days. I'll be back Tuesday for the ceremony, and we'll caravan back."

"Ah, you don't have to come for graduation. It's not that big a deal."

"I'll be back Tuesday for the ceremony, and we'll caravan back," Jim repeated.

Blair grinned, even though Jim couldn't see it over the phone. "Got it. I'll see you a week from Friday."

Tuesday, December 21, was cold, but at least it wasn't wet. Blair was glad the ceremony would be indoors. Unlike college graduations, which included grads and post grads, the academy cadets were all one rank, so the ceremony should be mercifully short. He spent the morning with last goodbyes to the friends he'd made and the instructors and settled his motel bill.

As he checked himself in the mirror, Blair was relieved this would be the last time he had to wear the academy uniform. He'd selected a blue silk shirt and a pair of jeans to change into; his "freedom" outfit he chuckled to himself. Then he sobered. How far had they come in a few short months? He was sure Naomi's blunder had shattered his relationship with Jim beyond repair.

He flashed on a long-ago memory. He couldn't have been more than seven, playing with other kids at a commune. A mis-thrown football sailed over his head and smashed into some dishes sitting on a picnic table, including a pitcher Naomi had bought just weeks before. He was devastated. He started to cry as he uselessly tried to put it back together.

"Don't worry about it, honey," one of the mothers consoled him. "Everything happens for a reason. Let me show you something." She took the pitcher and a broken dish over to a clean spot on the table. She picked up a nearby rock and, to his horror, broke them further. She started arranging the pieces. "See, this is how you make a mosaic. People would take broken pieces of glass or tile and make them into something new and beautiful. It will never be the same as the original piece, but it can be just as good and maybe even better." She then helped him create a picture and they glued the pieces on a plank of wood.

"Everything happens for a reason," he repeated that long-ago wisdom softly. Through lots of hard work and plenty of help, they'd managed to transform what they had into something much better than he could have imagined four months ago. He smiled at himself once more, then packed what was left of his belongings in his car and went out to wait for Jim to show up.

Jim showed up, but Blair almost missed him. A Hummer H1 stopped in the parking space right in front of Blair and, when he looked up, Joel Taggart waved at him from the driver's seat. Jim and Simon got out of the passenger side. "Hey, Blair, happy graduation," Joel greeted. "How do you like my new ride?"

"Jim told me you got a new car, but this… this is amazing." He walked over to shake Joel's hand and got pulled into a bear hug. They walked around the vehicle while Joel pointed out all the features.

"Hey, what are we, chopped liver?" Simon groused. He eyed Blair up and down. "You look good, Sandburg."

Blair grinned. "I've been running every day and doing some strength training. Gotta keep up with Jim." He sobered. "Thank you. For giving me this opportunity. For believing I could do it. You'll never know…" voice cracking, blinking back the sudden stinging in his eyes, Blair ran out of words.

Simon waved him off, but he was obviously touched.

"So," Blair said, regaining his composure as he stepped over the Jim, "I guess we're not caravanning?"

Jim put up his hands in mock surrender. "I told these guys you said graduating from the most prestigious academy on the West Coast is no big deal, but they insisted."

Blair smiled shyly. "Thanks for coming, guys. Let's find you some good seats."

The ceremony was as predictable as Blair expected, but with his personal cheering squad as he walked across the stage, it was the most exceptional graduation he'd ever had.

After Blair treated everyone to lunch, they parted ways. Simon gave Blair an official start date of the 24th, since Jim was already working Christmas Eve and Day. They would have New Year's Eve and Day off.

As they reached the city limits, Blair said, "You know, tonight's Solstice. Did you want to do something?"

"Such as?"

Blair grinned. "Like spending the longest night of the year boffing like bunnies?"

Jim gave him his patented cheesy grin. "Tempting. I've got one stop to make first. It's on our way."

When he directed them into the parking lot of the Metropolitan Grill, Blair said, "Oh, no, do not tell me we're here so I can buy Simon that steak dinner."

Jim shrugged. "No, not exactly." They entered the restaurant and Jim ushered Blair into the large event room in the back. As soon as they entered, there was a loud cheer. A banner reading "Congratulations, Graduate" was hung over a table filled with hors d'oeurves and drinks. As a stunned Blair looked around, he saw all their Major Crime colleagues, as well as uniforms and detectives from other departments they'd worked with over the years. Even Beverly Sanchez, now the D.A., showed up.

"Sandy!" Blair turned to see Megan and Joel approaching them. Megan wrapped him in a big hug.

"Megan, you're back! You're fully healed?"

"She sure is," Joel said. "I've got my partner back. Thanks, Jim, for filling in."

"It was a pleasure, Joel. Welcome back, Connor."

"Thanks. It's good to be back." She looked at the two of them. "Congratulations. And Jimbo, you're officially no longer an arse wipe," she added.

Blair furrowed his brows. "What—"

Jim patted his arm. "Don't worry about it, Chief. Just an inside joke."

They continued to make the rounds, collecting congratulations. Eventually, the job being what it was, the uniforms and detectives took off and the party wound up. There were final hugs and then Jim and Blair were in the parking lot.

"That was great," Blair said. "But now, can we go home and boff like bunnies?" Jim hesitated. "What now?" Blair asked, exasperated.

"Well, we've got one more Solstice surprise." Blair continued to stare silently. "Since I've been building bridges with everyone else, I made a phone call. Your mom's in town."

Blair looked wide-eyed, then his eyes narrowed. "Oh, no, don't tell me she's at our place."

Jim nodded. "The last time I saw her, she was carrying a tongue. I think she plans to stay up all night cooking your favorite foods."

Blair put his hands on his hips. "No, just no. I told her months ago that she can't run willy-nilly over my life. Call right now and get her the best room at the Hyatt Regency. I don't care what it costs. Just get her in the hotel so we can enjoy our honeymoon in our own bed."

Jim smiled and pulled out a hotel key from his jacket pocket and jingled it. "The Hyatt Regency Honeymoon Suite. Courtesy of Naomi. She says Happy Solstice and she'll see us sometime tomorrow." He swept Blair into his arms and gave him a quick kiss. "I love my new mother-in-law."

Blair gave up, chuckling. "I guess at least the Honeymoon Suite won't smell like boiled tongue."

"And she bought us new sheets for the bed. She says it's good luck. Tomorrow we can air out the loft, wash the sheets and eat some tongue."

"Late tomorrow. Very late." Jim pulled him in for one more kiss, one of his patented, all-consuming kisses. Blair sighed. "Very, very late."

The end

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