Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters
belong to Paramount and Pet Fly. No money
has exchange hands, yadda...
Warnings: For animal lovers I should issue a
small "violence against animals" warning; for
Blair lovers there's also a "voilence against
Blair" warning g; h/c; smarm and the use
of the f-word.
Notes: I'm paying a debt ;-) thus this one is
for Leila, the Wicked Witch of all Seasons.
Enjoy!
For all the right reasons
By DannyD
//Jim would have a fit.// With a shaking
hand, Blair searched the pockets of his
pants for his keys. //Big time,// The
anthropologist added in his mind, struggling
to steady his hand to insert the key into the
lock. Missing twice, the young man rested
his forehead against the wooden frame and
attempted to take a few deep, calming
breaths. He moaned as his side protested
the movement. The door handle danced in
front of his eyes, jumping from one place to
the other, always out of reach. Blinking
rapidly, Blair shook his head to fight the
threatening darkness.
"Come on," he muttered and winced at the
pain talking inflicted on his split and swollen
lip. "Just open the door, Sandburg."
Squinting with the combined force of the
pain flashing through his head, and the fact
that he lost his glasses, Blair poked at the
little lock as it stubbornly refused to sit
still. Then a wave of dizziness hit him full
force, sweeping him off his feet. Blair
gasped as he slid down to the floor. Around
him, the world dimmed.
//Jim's gonna kill me// Blair thought before
he lost consciousness, hugging the little
bundle in his arms to his chest.
*'*'*'*
//Sandburg, I'm gonna kill you. Slowly.//
Jim Ellison cursed silently for the upteenth
time stomping on the brakes a bit too hard,
a bit too sudden. Behind him a car honked,
blaring painfully through the early night.
"Hey, are you blind?!" Jim shouted angrily,
despite the fact that he knew the dumbass
in the other car couldn't hear him. Suddenly
the Sentinel remembered Sandburg's
lecture about road rage which now added to
Ellison's bad mood. "Idiot!" Jim spat, not
quite knowing if he'd just addressed the
driver or his partner and friend. Luckily his
usual parking spot wasn't occupied tonight,
meaning an innocent, ignorant human-being
would live. Jim killed the engine, exiting his
'69 Ford truck. Slamming the door felt too
good to him right now.
Sandburg hadn't shown up at the station as
promised. No explanation, no excuse, no
"hey, Jim, I'm sorry, man, but I won't make
it today". Nothing. Maybe it was his revenge
for the teasing he'd received this morning.
Another 'table leg' comment and mocked
sympathy for a date gone wrong. Jim had
been joking with good-natured and well-
meant laughter at his friend's misery. And
Blair had teased back, threatening to leave
him, Jim, drowning under a *cascade* of
paperwork. The Sentinel couldn't believe
that the kid had actually buggered off. Upon
his phone call to Blair's office at the
university, Jim had been told that he'd left
hours ago with a fellow TA, Susan Jones. Of
course.
"You're dead, Sandburg," Jim growled,
pushing the opening elevator doors aside in
his fury.
The door to the loft swung open. Stepping
inside, Jim took pleasure in slamming the
door shut. Again it felt great. The detective
knew his friend must've noticed his
'appearance' but for the simple reason of
good measure, he took a deep breath to yell
his name.
The sound died on his lips.
At first it was only the pungent odor that
assaulted his sensitive nose. However,
seconds later, the visual proof came into
focus.
"What the hell ... ?" Jim shouted, his gaze
darting from the brownish mess on the
wooden floor to the dark bundle of fur
attempting to crawl under the couch.
Seeking a refuge from the furious, tall man
with the loud voice.
"Sandburg!" the Sentinel yelled the name,
the unspoken question demanding an
immediate explanation. Jim took a step
forward. Watching his approach with huge
brown eyes, the little dog tried to press
itself into the couch, the small body
quivering with fear.
Blair's low voice reached his ears. "Her
name's Betty."
"Care to explain to me what this is all
about?" Jim questioned angrily, still
watching the dog. The animal cowered near
the couch, trembling with fear.
"She's afraid, Jim," Blair said slowly. "I
don't blame her." A sigh. "Can I explain it
later? I'm not feelin'..."
"No! I want an explanation *now*,
Sandburg," Jim interrupted, finally turning
around. The rage vanished at the sight of
the bruised and swollen face of his friend.
"Oh, my God..." In a few quick strides Jim
was at Blair's side, reaching out to gently
touch his left cheek. Forgotten was his
anger, the bad mood, or the little dog
making a mess on the floor. "Chief, what
happened?" The skin felt hot under his
gentle touch.
The young man flinched, but ignored Jim's
question. "I'm okay." As if to punish him for
the lie, Blair swayed and instinctively
grasped Jim's arm. "I'm okay," he stressed
again.
"Yeah, I hear that," Jim replied, placing an
arm around Blair's shoulders. "Take it easy."
Under the watchful eyes of Betty, the two
men moved to the couch. "Come on, Chief, sit
down before you..."
Suddenly, Blair's legs gave out and he
sagged against Jim's tall frame.
"Hey, hey, don't do this to me, Sandburg!"
the Sentinel exclaimed, catching the
crumpling figure.
"I'm 'kay," Blair mumbled. Then his eyes
rolled back into his head and the body went
limp.
***
All he wanted to do was curl up in a little
ball and wait for the pain to subside. //Let
me sleep.// Blair pleaded in his mind. //I
just wanna sleep.// Then, the large hand was
back, the hand that had hit him in the
stomach so badly a few hours ago. The
anthropologist gasped at the memory, trying
to twist away from the brutal hand that now
roamed under his shirt. The pain came
immediately as the tender flesh was gently
probed.
"Try to relax, Blair..."
"No..." Blair turned his head and started to
move away from the torturous touch.
"It's okay, Chief, you're gonna be okay." The
words reached his ears, but didn't make
much sense to him. All he wanted to do was
escape from the hands. Escape from the
pain.
***
Something woke Blair. A sound, a voice,
nagging at the verge of his consciousness.
Persistently, persuasively, it crept into his
head, leaving whirling question marks behind.
The sound flooded his mind and after a while
the noise became words.
A familiar voice. The voice he'd heard before.
Jim's.
"Hey, puppy, come here .... don't be afraid,"
Jim crooned in the softest voice Blair had
ever heard him use. "I'm not gonna hurt
you."
Despite his misery, the young anthropologist
smiled. Give him a moment with a dog and
hard-boiled cop James Ellison became as
mushy as a puppy himself. //Gotcha, Jim.//
Blair opened his eyes, but squeezed them
shut immediately as the light pierced
through his head.
"Can you switch off the sun, man?" Blair
moaned while he covered his eyes with one
hand.
The detective looked up from his crouch on
the floor where he'd tried to coax the little
dog out of its hiding place. "How are you
feeling, Chief?" He sat back on his heels,
hands resting on his knees.
Blair squinted at his older friend through
the curtain of his fingers. "Isn't it obvious?"
he replied, his mood decreasing reawakening
aches and pains. At the same instant he
knew the Sentinel was just being concerned
about him. "Sorry, Jim. It's not my
favourite day today."
A disarming smile crossed Ellison's face. "I
can relate to that, Chief. I had to do all the
paperwork."
The young man chuckled, then winced. "Oh,
what a burden....ouch...owwww, I'd better
not make any sudden moves, huh?"
Jim felt a presence at his side, and out of
the corner of his eyes saw Betty cautiously
approaching his legs. The detective didn't
move, but concentrated on his injured
friend. The dog would come if she felt
comfortable. "You could try and sell those
bruises on your upper body as paintings at
the new art museum downtown," he joked
good-naturedly. Then his features grew
serious. "What happened, Blair?"
Ignoring the question, Blair turned his head
a bit. "Am I smelling chamomile tea?" he
asked, his face adding a plea for help with
the steaming cup he'd just discovered on
the living-room table.
"Are you telling me you've developed
Sentinel senses?" As Jim moved to retrieve
the cup, Betty flinched in fear and escaped
into the kitchen, probably seeking cover in a
remote corner. Jim took the cup and
offered it to Blair's waiting hands. "Be
careful on your lip, Chief," he warned gently,
wincing in sympathy as his friend tensed up
in pain when the heat touched his sore lips.
"I hate getting beaten up," Blair muttered
and took another, more careful sip. He
leaned his head back against the pillows and
closed his eyes briefly. The soothing liquid
ran down his throat, warming his stomach.
"This feels good."
"We should get you checked out at the
emergency room," Jim suggested.
Abruptly, Sandburg's eyes flew open. "No
way, man. I'm fine."
"Chief... you passed out on me a few minutes
ago."
"I trust your verdict," Blair replied. "You've
already made sure I'm not in any immediate
danger of dying on our couch, right?" He
took another sip of the tea.
"You might have a slight concussion," the
former medic tried to reason.
The headache proved the Sentinel's words
but Blair stubbornly, carefully shook his
head. "So the doc will tell us I have a
concussion and that I should take it easy for
a few days and send me home. You just did
the same." He emptied his cup of tea and
handed it back to Jim. "Thanks."
"The moment you feel nauseous, we're on
our way, you got it?" Jim placed the cup on
the table.
"Where's Betty?" Blair asked suddenly,
struggling to sit up.
Jim put a restraining hand on the young
man's shoulder. "It's okay, Chief. She's
alright. Hiding somewhere."
The anthropologist fell back against the
pillows, closing his eyes momentarily as his
stomach muscles cramped. "I'm sorry about
the mess she made, Jim. She was just
scared when you showed up." In an almost
inaudible whisper he added, "I was scared,
too. Thought he'd followed me."
"He?" Jim probed gently.
Blair sighed. "Betty's owner, I guess."
"Why don't you tell me the whole story from
the beginning?" Jim stretched his legs and
sat down on the carpet, resting his elbow on
the couch.
"After classes, Susan Jones and I went for
lunch. She had an appointment downtown and
as you know I wanted to meet you at the
station. I'd left my car at the U and when
we split up, I took the detour through the
park to get back. I was in hurry because I'd
promised to come to work and help you out."
Blair rushed out the words.
"Take it easy, Chief. I'm not mad at
you...anymore," Jim grinned warmly.
The police observe nodded and inhaled
deeply, wincing a little. "Anyway, there was
this pedestrian with his dog. He was a *huge
guy*, massive, giant." Blair paused,
remembering the man. "Somehow he and the
little dog didn't seem to fit in the picture.
He was so tall and she's so tiny, almost
fragile. I didn't pay much attention but
walked by 'cause I had to make up for the
time I had lost chatting with Susan."
Shifting a little into a more comfortable
position, Blair grimaced, then bit his already
split lip.
Noticing his friend's discomfort, Ellison
moved quickly to kneel in front of the couch.
"Why don't you try and bend your legs a
bit," he suggested softly, carefully touching
Blair's legs to assist. "That'll take off the
strain on your stomach muscles there."
"Thanks," Blair murmured, his body quivering
from the small effort to draw up his legs.
He gratefully accepted the afghan Jim
offered, snuggling into the soft blanket as
best as he could.
"You okay?" Jim asked, concern still swinging
in his voice. "Maybe we should re-consider
and..."
Impressive blue looked up at the Blessed
Protector, pain and fear reflecting the
emotions that ravaged Blair's body. "I'm
fine, Jim. Just sore. You know how it feels,
man. Right?" The young Shaman patted the
space beside him on the couch. "Could you
sit down there like you did before?" For a
moment, his eyes took on a child-like plea;
like a kid afraid of the dark. Moments later
he added, "It's okay if you wanna sit
somewhere more comfortable. The floor
must be pretty hard." //Just don't leave me
alone, Jim.//
The detective plopped down on the carpet
again, resuming the same position he'd been
in before with his elbow resting on the
couch. "Do you feel up to telling me the rest
of the story, Chief?" Jim flashed him
another reassuring smile and patted Blair's
thigh affectionately.
Instead of continuing with his story, Blair
started all over again, apparently oblivious
to the fact he'd already told the beginning.
Jim frowned at that, wondering about the
concussion his partner must be suffering.
Still, Blair seemed coherent and didn't
falter in his tale. So Jim sat on the floor
and listened.
"So I'd walked by the guy when I suddenly
heard him shouting at the dog. His voice was
really angry. Something like "you stupid
creature", then I heard Betty howling in
pain. I turned around and saw him raising
the longer end of her leash and striking her.
Over and over again." Blair swallowed,
turning his gaze to the ceiling. "I know I
shouted at him to leave her alone. The jerk
didn't pay any attention at all but kept
hitting her. She tried to get away from him
but since she was still on the leash, she
couldn't move very far. And when she
moved, he tore at the leash to pull her back
to his feet. Then his hand lashed out and he
started hitting her small body with his bare
hand."
Jim knew that his younger friend loathed
any kind of violence. Watching him struggle
with his emotions, the detective wasn't at
all surprised to see pearls of moisture
glisten in the corner of those gentle blue
eyes. Mutely, Jim reached out and rubbed
Blair's leg in a silent support. Then he
waited.
"There weren't many people in the park but
those who were just kept staring at the
scenario," Blair continued in a thick voice.
"Nobody seemed to care." He chuckled
sadly. "Or maybe they knew the odds against
him. I was too blind to see that it was a no-
winner."
//No, Chief, you knew exactly what you
were doing. You did what your heart told you
to do.// Jim mused.
"By the time I reached the guy, Betty was
whimpering, but she never ever tried to bite
him. Her whole body trembled and she was
peeing constantly. It was terrible, man. She
kept trying to get away from him, but he
had her so short on the leash already that
there was no escape from his blows." Blair
reached up and rubbed his nose. "I kinda
crashed into him, yelling to get his fucking
hands off her."
"I bet you surprised him, huh?" Jim spoke up
softly.
Blair actually grinned at that. "You should've
seen his face, man!" Then he grew serious
again. "Pulling Betty even closer, he yelled at
me to mind my own business and that it was
his dog and he could do with it whatever he
wanted." A moment of silence hung in the air
as the teacher remembered. "He called her
'it'. A thing, a property, like a toy. I was
actually very polite when I asked him to let
her go. He leered at me, then laughed out
loud. He started to walk by, pulling Betty
with him. I followed him and tried to talk to
him." Blair shrugged. "I guess it wasn't one
of my better lectures. Suddenly he ... just
hit me in the face. Sprawling backwards, I
lost my balance and crashed down onto the
asphalt. He'd somehow lost his hold on Betty
and she came straight forward to me,
almost sensing I was one of the good guys or
something. She barked at him. When I tried
to get up, I saw his foot coming towards her
and I sort of grabbed her. He got me in the
stomach instead."
Jim's jaws hurt. Clenching them painfully
and grinding down on his molars, the
Sentinel listened to Blair's story. His anger
rose with each passing minute. "How did you
manage to get away?"
Another chuckle, a bit more cheerful this
time, escaped Blair's lips. "I stopped moving.
Betty was under me and when he kicked me
several more times I didn't move. You know
like prey in the wilderness trying to fool
their pursuers? So he let go and just...left.
He didn't try to get Betty back but I
thought he'd lurk somewhere and wait for
me." A fine tremor shook Blair's body. He
pulled the afghan closer to his shoulders as
if the blanket could protect him from the
enemy.
"You're safe now. Nobody's gonna hurt you
or Betty," Jim vowed. He reached up and
squeezed Blair's arm through the blanket.
"Trust me, Chief."
Blair met his gaze. "Do you know what was
really scary?"
"What's that?" Jim saw Betty approaching
the coach with fearful eyes. Her paws made
little noise on the floor. When she noticed
Jim's look, she stopped, waited and then
moved forward again.
"I thought I'd die."
"Blair, it's okay to be scared. That's nothing
to be ashamed of."
"...I mean I've been through more trouble
than this before, right? All the crappy,
creepy stuff with Lash or, or... Alex never
left me with the thought I would die today
with a dozens of people watching. There was
this crowd but nobody did anything. Not
even call the police. No one helped."
Two little paws landed beside Blair on the
couch and a moist nose tickled his hand.
Betty looked at her human hero and started
licking Blair's hand. "Hey, sweetie," Blair
crooned, mindful to not scare the little dog
with any sudden movements. Tentatively,
Jim placed his hand near her muzzle and
moments later Betty's tongue whirled over
the back of his hand as well.
"I'm sorry that you had to go through all
this, Chief." Crawling behind the dog's ears
with his other hand, Jim sighed. "I can't
explain to you why nobody else helped. Not
everyone is as compassionate as you."
"You mean stupid," Blair corrected, smiling a
bit sadly.
Surprised, Jim stared at his partner. "What
makes you think it was a stupid thing to do?"
Blair raised his other arm and made a vague
gesture in the air before he combed through
his long hair. "I didn't start thinking about
any consequences until I was on the ground.
Just... I couldn't let him beat her. She's so
small and didn't do anything to deserve such
a punishment." With a frustrated sigh, Blair
shook his head. "I mean the newspapers are
full of horrible crimes every day, and what
we see at the station sometimes makes you
question the term 'human being'. In the
park today, I thought... oh man, you're gonna
laugh at me," he stopped abruptly.
"....you thought what?" Jim encouraged
calmly giving his friend time to sort through
his mind.
"...if we don't stop these so-called little
things like the beating of a dog, how can we
solve the big issues in our world?" Blair
finished, a small blush colouring his face.
"It's lame, I know."
Forming a little step with his hand, Jim
allowed Betty to jump on the sofa to snuggle
up against the warmth of Blair's body. "You
know what, Chief? As long as you have a
reason like that and you fight for your
belief, it's gonna be anything but 'lame'."
"You can't change the world by saving a
little dog."
Stroking Betty's brown fur with the back of
his fingers, Jim nodded. "Nope, but it's a
start in the right direction."
***
It was almost 11 p.m. The loft was bathed in
the dim light from the TV and a few candles
burning on the table. Blair still rested on the
couch, watching TV with the bundle of Betty
curled against his side. The dog was softly
snoring. Occasionally she sighed in her sleep,
enjoying the delicate strokes over her fur.
Jim emerged from the bathroom, holding a
hot-water bottle in his hands.
"How are you feeling?" he asked as he made
his way into the living room.
Blair yawned heartily but groaned at the
pain it caused his bruised jaw. "I'm alright,
just tired and sore." He grinned. "Can't wait
to try and get up tomorrow morning."
Jim sat down on the edge of the couch.
"Chief..." he began but Blair interrupted,
smiling. "Go ahead, Florence." He lifted the
afghan exposing his stomach.
"I just wanna make sure, you're alright," the
Sentinel said and tenderly pushed up Blair's
shirt. His hands were warm as they roamed
over the skin, his sense of touch opened
widely to check for any indication of a
hidden injury he might have missed. Blair
moaned a few times and drew his legs up
again.
"Sorry, Chief, I'll try to be as gentle as
possible."
"...it's okay." Blair fought the urge to pry
Jim's hands away.
Satisfied that his friend would be sore but
okay in the morning, Jim withdrew his hand.
"Do you want to sleep here? I think your bed
would be a better idea."
Betty raised her head at the sound of his
voice. Recognizing the Sentinel, she settled
back into the warm cave under Blair's arm.
"I don't wanna move, man," Blair confessed.
"You mind me sleeping here?"
"Of course not," Jim replied. "I brought you
this." He indicated the hot-water bottle. "It
might help your cramping muscles."
Pulling the afghan back again, Blair took the
bottle and placed it over his hurting
stomach. At first he flinched at the
pressure but as soon as the warmth crept
through his clothes and body, he visibly
relaxed. "Thanks, man. That feels pretty
good."
Jim stood up after gently petting the little
dog's head. Betty pried an eye open and
closed it again with a contented sigh.
"Call me if you need anything, okay?" He
pointed a finger at Blair. "I mean that,
Chief."
"Sure." Blair nodded. As Jim turned toward
the stairs, he called after him. "You don't
think we could keep her, huh?"
The larger man looked over to his partner
and friend. Seeing the hope and love for
that animal shining in Sandburg's eyes, Jim
winked at him. "I guess Betty would fit quite
nicely into our world of jaguars and wolves,
don't you agree?"
The end
1
belong to Paramount and Pet Fly. No money
has exchange hands, yadda...
Warnings: For animal lovers I should issue a
small "violence against animals" warning; for
Blair lovers there's also a "voilence against
Blair" warning g; h/c; smarm and the use
of the f-word.
Notes: I'm paying a debt ;-) thus this one is
for Leila, the Wicked Witch of all Seasons.
Enjoy!
For all the right reasons
By DannyD
//Jim would have a fit.// With a shaking
hand, Blair searched the pockets of his
pants for his keys. //Big time,// The
anthropologist added in his mind, struggling
to steady his hand to insert the key into the
lock. Missing twice, the young man rested
his forehead against the wooden frame and
attempted to take a few deep, calming
breaths. He moaned as his side protested
the movement. The door handle danced in
front of his eyes, jumping from one place to
the other, always out of reach. Blinking
rapidly, Blair shook his head to fight the
threatening darkness.
"Come on," he muttered and winced at the
pain talking inflicted on his split and swollen
lip. "Just open the door, Sandburg."
Squinting with the combined force of the
pain flashing through his head, and the fact
that he lost his glasses, Blair poked at the
little lock as it stubbornly refused to sit
still. Then a wave of dizziness hit him full
force, sweeping him off his feet. Blair
gasped as he slid down to the floor. Around
him, the world dimmed.
//Jim's gonna kill me// Blair thought before
he lost consciousness, hugging the little
bundle in his arms to his chest.
*'*'*'*
//Sandburg, I'm gonna kill you. Slowly.//
Jim Ellison cursed silently for the upteenth
time stomping on the brakes a bit too hard,
a bit too sudden. Behind him a car honked,
blaring painfully through the early night.
"Hey, are you blind?!" Jim shouted angrily,
despite the fact that he knew the dumbass
in the other car couldn't hear him. Suddenly
the Sentinel remembered Sandburg's
lecture about road rage which now added to
Ellison's bad mood. "Idiot!" Jim spat, not
quite knowing if he'd just addressed the
driver or his partner and friend. Luckily his
usual parking spot wasn't occupied tonight,
meaning an innocent, ignorant human-being
would live. Jim killed the engine, exiting his
'69 Ford truck. Slamming the door felt too
good to him right now.
Sandburg hadn't shown up at the station as
promised. No explanation, no excuse, no
"hey, Jim, I'm sorry, man, but I won't make
it today". Nothing. Maybe it was his revenge
for the teasing he'd received this morning.
Another 'table leg' comment and mocked
sympathy for a date gone wrong. Jim had
been joking with good-natured and well-
meant laughter at his friend's misery. And
Blair had teased back, threatening to leave
him, Jim, drowning under a *cascade* of
paperwork. The Sentinel couldn't believe
that the kid had actually buggered off. Upon
his phone call to Blair's office at the
university, Jim had been told that he'd left
hours ago with a fellow TA, Susan Jones. Of
course.
"You're dead, Sandburg," Jim growled,
pushing the opening elevator doors aside in
his fury.
The door to the loft swung open. Stepping
inside, Jim took pleasure in slamming the
door shut. Again it felt great. The detective
knew his friend must've noticed his
'appearance' but for the simple reason of
good measure, he took a deep breath to yell
his name.
The sound died on his lips.
At first it was only the pungent odor that
assaulted his sensitive nose. However,
seconds later, the visual proof came into
focus.
"What the hell ... ?" Jim shouted, his gaze
darting from the brownish mess on the
wooden floor to the dark bundle of fur
attempting to crawl under the couch.
Seeking a refuge from the furious, tall man
with the loud voice.
"Sandburg!" the Sentinel yelled the name,
the unspoken question demanding an
immediate explanation. Jim took a step
forward. Watching his approach with huge
brown eyes, the little dog tried to press
itself into the couch, the small body
quivering with fear.
Blair's low voice reached his ears. "Her
name's Betty."
"Care to explain to me what this is all
about?" Jim questioned angrily, still
watching the dog. The animal cowered near
the couch, trembling with fear.
"She's afraid, Jim," Blair said slowly. "I
don't blame her." A sigh. "Can I explain it
later? I'm not feelin'..."
"No! I want an explanation *now*,
Sandburg," Jim interrupted, finally turning
around. The rage vanished at the sight of
the bruised and swollen face of his friend.
"Oh, my God..." In a few quick strides Jim
was at Blair's side, reaching out to gently
touch his left cheek. Forgotten was his
anger, the bad mood, or the little dog
making a mess on the floor. "Chief, what
happened?" The skin felt hot under his
gentle touch.
The young man flinched, but ignored Jim's
question. "I'm okay." As if to punish him for
the lie, Blair swayed and instinctively
grasped Jim's arm. "I'm okay," he stressed
again.
"Yeah, I hear that," Jim replied, placing an
arm around Blair's shoulders. "Take it easy."
Under the watchful eyes of Betty, the two
men moved to the couch. "Come on, Chief, sit
down before you..."
Suddenly, Blair's legs gave out and he
sagged against Jim's tall frame.
"Hey, hey, don't do this to me, Sandburg!"
the Sentinel exclaimed, catching the
crumpling figure.
"I'm 'kay," Blair mumbled. Then his eyes
rolled back into his head and the body went
limp.
***
All he wanted to do was curl up in a little
ball and wait for the pain to subside. //Let
me sleep.// Blair pleaded in his mind. //I
just wanna sleep.// Then, the large hand was
back, the hand that had hit him in the
stomach so badly a few hours ago. The
anthropologist gasped at the memory, trying
to twist away from the brutal hand that now
roamed under his shirt. The pain came
immediately as the tender flesh was gently
probed.
"Try to relax, Blair..."
"No..." Blair turned his head and started to
move away from the torturous touch.
"It's okay, Chief, you're gonna be okay." The
words reached his ears, but didn't make
much sense to him. All he wanted to do was
escape from the hands. Escape from the
pain.
***
Something woke Blair. A sound, a voice,
nagging at the verge of his consciousness.
Persistently, persuasively, it crept into his
head, leaving whirling question marks behind.
The sound flooded his mind and after a while
the noise became words.
A familiar voice. The voice he'd heard before.
Jim's.
"Hey, puppy, come here .... don't be afraid,"
Jim crooned in the softest voice Blair had
ever heard him use. "I'm not gonna hurt
you."
Despite his misery, the young anthropologist
smiled. Give him a moment with a dog and
hard-boiled cop James Ellison became as
mushy as a puppy himself. //Gotcha, Jim.//
Blair opened his eyes, but squeezed them
shut immediately as the light pierced
through his head.
"Can you switch off the sun, man?" Blair
moaned while he covered his eyes with one
hand.
The detective looked up from his crouch on
the floor where he'd tried to coax the little
dog out of its hiding place. "How are you
feeling, Chief?" He sat back on his heels,
hands resting on his knees.
Blair squinted at his older friend through
the curtain of his fingers. "Isn't it obvious?"
he replied, his mood decreasing reawakening
aches and pains. At the same instant he
knew the Sentinel was just being concerned
about him. "Sorry, Jim. It's not my
favourite day today."
A disarming smile crossed Ellison's face. "I
can relate to that, Chief. I had to do all the
paperwork."
The young man chuckled, then winced. "Oh,
what a burden....ouch...owwww, I'd better
not make any sudden moves, huh?"
Jim felt a presence at his side, and out of
the corner of his eyes saw Betty cautiously
approaching his legs. The detective didn't
move, but concentrated on his injured
friend. The dog would come if she felt
comfortable. "You could try and sell those
bruises on your upper body as paintings at
the new art museum downtown," he joked
good-naturedly. Then his features grew
serious. "What happened, Blair?"
Ignoring the question, Blair turned his head
a bit. "Am I smelling chamomile tea?" he
asked, his face adding a plea for help with
the steaming cup he'd just discovered on
the living-room table.
"Are you telling me you've developed
Sentinel senses?" As Jim moved to retrieve
the cup, Betty flinched in fear and escaped
into the kitchen, probably seeking cover in a
remote corner. Jim took the cup and
offered it to Blair's waiting hands. "Be
careful on your lip, Chief," he warned gently,
wincing in sympathy as his friend tensed up
in pain when the heat touched his sore lips.
"I hate getting beaten up," Blair muttered
and took another, more careful sip. He
leaned his head back against the pillows and
closed his eyes briefly. The soothing liquid
ran down his throat, warming his stomach.
"This feels good."
"We should get you checked out at the
emergency room," Jim suggested.
Abruptly, Sandburg's eyes flew open. "No
way, man. I'm fine."
"Chief... you passed out on me a few minutes
ago."
"I trust your verdict," Blair replied. "You've
already made sure I'm not in any immediate
danger of dying on our couch, right?" He
took another sip of the tea.
"You might have a slight concussion," the
former medic tried to reason.
The headache proved the Sentinel's words
but Blair stubbornly, carefully shook his
head. "So the doc will tell us I have a
concussion and that I should take it easy for
a few days and send me home. You just did
the same." He emptied his cup of tea and
handed it back to Jim. "Thanks."
"The moment you feel nauseous, we're on
our way, you got it?" Jim placed the cup on
the table.
"Where's Betty?" Blair asked suddenly,
struggling to sit up.
Jim put a restraining hand on the young
man's shoulder. "It's okay, Chief. She's
alright. Hiding somewhere."
The anthropologist fell back against the
pillows, closing his eyes momentarily as his
stomach muscles cramped. "I'm sorry about
the mess she made, Jim. She was just
scared when you showed up." In an almost
inaudible whisper he added, "I was scared,
too. Thought he'd followed me."
"He?" Jim probed gently.
Blair sighed. "Betty's owner, I guess."
"Why don't you tell me the whole story from
the beginning?" Jim stretched his legs and
sat down on the carpet, resting his elbow on
the couch.
"After classes, Susan Jones and I went for
lunch. She had an appointment downtown and
as you know I wanted to meet you at the
station. I'd left my car at the U and when
we split up, I took the detour through the
park to get back. I was in hurry because I'd
promised to come to work and help you out."
Blair rushed out the words.
"Take it easy, Chief. I'm not mad at
you...anymore," Jim grinned warmly.
The police observe nodded and inhaled
deeply, wincing a little. "Anyway, there was
this pedestrian with his dog. He was a *huge
guy*, massive, giant." Blair paused,
remembering the man. "Somehow he and the
little dog didn't seem to fit in the picture.
He was so tall and she's so tiny, almost
fragile. I didn't pay much attention but
walked by 'cause I had to make up for the
time I had lost chatting with Susan."
Shifting a little into a more comfortable
position, Blair grimaced, then bit his already
split lip.
Noticing his friend's discomfort, Ellison
moved quickly to kneel in front of the couch.
"Why don't you try and bend your legs a
bit," he suggested softly, carefully touching
Blair's legs to assist. "That'll take off the
strain on your stomach muscles there."
"Thanks," Blair murmured, his body quivering
from the small effort to draw up his legs.
He gratefully accepted the afghan Jim
offered, snuggling into the soft blanket as
best as he could.
"You okay?" Jim asked, concern still swinging
in his voice. "Maybe we should re-consider
and..."
Impressive blue looked up at the Blessed
Protector, pain and fear reflecting the
emotions that ravaged Blair's body. "I'm
fine, Jim. Just sore. You know how it feels,
man. Right?" The young Shaman patted the
space beside him on the couch. "Could you
sit down there like you did before?" For a
moment, his eyes took on a child-like plea;
like a kid afraid of the dark. Moments later
he added, "It's okay if you wanna sit
somewhere more comfortable. The floor
must be pretty hard." //Just don't leave me
alone, Jim.//
The detective plopped down on the carpet
again, resuming the same position he'd been
in before with his elbow resting on the
couch. "Do you feel up to telling me the rest
of the story, Chief?" Jim flashed him
another reassuring smile and patted Blair's
thigh affectionately.
Instead of continuing with his story, Blair
started all over again, apparently oblivious
to the fact he'd already told the beginning.
Jim frowned at that, wondering about the
concussion his partner must be suffering.
Still, Blair seemed coherent and didn't
falter in his tale. So Jim sat on the floor
and listened.
"So I'd walked by the guy when I suddenly
heard him shouting at the dog. His voice was
really angry. Something like "you stupid
creature", then I heard Betty howling in
pain. I turned around and saw him raising
the longer end of her leash and striking her.
Over and over again." Blair swallowed,
turning his gaze to the ceiling. "I know I
shouted at him to leave her alone. The jerk
didn't pay any attention at all but kept
hitting her. She tried to get away from him
but since she was still on the leash, she
couldn't move very far. And when she
moved, he tore at the leash to pull her back
to his feet. Then his hand lashed out and he
started hitting her small body with his bare
hand."
Jim knew that his younger friend loathed
any kind of violence. Watching him struggle
with his emotions, the detective wasn't at
all surprised to see pearls of moisture
glisten in the corner of those gentle blue
eyes. Mutely, Jim reached out and rubbed
Blair's leg in a silent support. Then he
waited.
"There weren't many people in the park but
those who were just kept staring at the
scenario," Blair continued in a thick voice.
"Nobody seemed to care." He chuckled
sadly. "Or maybe they knew the odds against
him. I was too blind to see that it was a no-
winner."
//No, Chief, you knew exactly what you
were doing. You did what your heart told you
to do.// Jim mused.
"By the time I reached the guy, Betty was
whimpering, but she never ever tried to bite
him. Her whole body trembled and she was
peeing constantly. It was terrible, man. She
kept trying to get away from him, but he
had her so short on the leash already that
there was no escape from his blows." Blair
reached up and rubbed his nose. "I kinda
crashed into him, yelling to get his fucking
hands off her."
"I bet you surprised him, huh?" Jim spoke up
softly.
Blair actually grinned at that. "You should've
seen his face, man!" Then he grew serious
again. "Pulling Betty even closer, he yelled at
me to mind my own business and that it was
his dog and he could do with it whatever he
wanted." A moment of silence hung in the air
as the teacher remembered. "He called her
'it'. A thing, a property, like a toy. I was
actually very polite when I asked him to let
her go. He leered at me, then laughed out
loud. He started to walk by, pulling Betty
with him. I followed him and tried to talk to
him." Blair shrugged. "I guess it wasn't one
of my better lectures. Suddenly he ... just
hit me in the face. Sprawling backwards, I
lost my balance and crashed down onto the
asphalt. He'd somehow lost his hold on Betty
and she came straight forward to me,
almost sensing I was one of the good guys or
something. She barked at him. When I tried
to get up, I saw his foot coming towards her
and I sort of grabbed her. He got me in the
stomach instead."
Jim's jaws hurt. Clenching them painfully
and grinding down on his molars, the
Sentinel listened to Blair's story. His anger
rose with each passing minute. "How did you
manage to get away?"
Another chuckle, a bit more cheerful this
time, escaped Blair's lips. "I stopped moving.
Betty was under me and when he kicked me
several more times I didn't move. You know
like prey in the wilderness trying to fool
their pursuers? So he let go and just...left.
He didn't try to get Betty back but I
thought he'd lurk somewhere and wait for
me." A fine tremor shook Blair's body. He
pulled the afghan closer to his shoulders as
if the blanket could protect him from the
enemy.
"You're safe now. Nobody's gonna hurt you
or Betty," Jim vowed. He reached up and
squeezed Blair's arm through the blanket.
"Trust me, Chief."
Blair met his gaze. "Do you know what was
really scary?"
"What's that?" Jim saw Betty approaching
the coach with fearful eyes. Her paws made
little noise on the floor. When she noticed
Jim's look, she stopped, waited and then
moved forward again.
"I thought I'd die."
"Blair, it's okay to be scared. That's nothing
to be ashamed of."
"...I mean I've been through more trouble
than this before, right? All the crappy,
creepy stuff with Lash or, or... Alex never
left me with the thought I would die today
with a dozens of people watching. There was
this crowd but nobody did anything. Not
even call the police. No one helped."
Two little paws landed beside Blair on the
couch and a moist nose tickled his hand.
Betty looked at her human hero and started
licking Blair's hand. "Hey, sweetie," Blair
crooned, mindful to not scare the little dog
with any sudden movements. Tentatively,
Jim placed his hand near her muzzle and
moments later Betty's tongue whirled over
the back of his hand as well.
"I'm sorry that you had to go through all
this, Chief." Crawling behind the dog's ears
with his other hand, Jim sighed. "I can't
explain to you why nobody else helped. Not
everyone is as compassionate as you."
"You mean stupid," Blair corrected, smiling a
bit sadly.
Surprised, Jim stared at his partner. "What
makes you think it was a stupid thing to do?"
Blair raised his other arm and made a vague
gesture in the air before he combed through
his long hair. "I didn't start thinking about
any consequences until I was on the ground.
Just... I couldn't let him beat her. She's so
small and didn't do anything to deserve such
a punishment." With a frustrated sigh, Blair
shook his head. "I mean the newspapers are
full of horrible crimes every day, and what
we see at the station sometimes makes you
question the term 'human being'. In the
park today, I thought... oh man, you're gonna
laugh at me," he stopped abruptly.
"....you thought what?" Jim encouraged
calmly giving his friend time to sort through
his mind.
"...if we don't stop these so-called little
things like the beating of a dog, how can we
solve the big issues in our world?" Blair
finished, a small blush colouring his face.
"It's lame, I know."
Forming a little step with his hand, Jim
allowed Betty to jump on the sofa to snuggle
up against the warmth of Blair's body. "You
know what, Chief? As long as you have a
reason like that and you fight for your
belief, it's gonna be anything but 'lame'."
"You can't change the world by saving a
little dog."
Stroking Betty's brown fur with the back of
his fingers, Jim nodded. "Nope, but it's a
start in the right direction."
***
It was almost 11 p.m. The loft was bathed in
the dim light from the TV and a few candles
burning on the table. Blair still rested on the
couch, watching TV with the bundle of Betty
curled against his side. The dog was softly
snoring. Occasionally she sighed in her sleep,
enjoying the delicate strokes over her fur.
Jim emerged from the bathroom, holding a
hot-water bottle in his hands.
"How are you feeling?" he asked as he made
his way into the living room.
Blair yawned heartily but groaned at the
pain it caused his bruised jaw. "I'm alright,
just tired and sore." He grinned. "Can't wait
to try and get up tomorrow morning."
Jim sat down on the edge of the couch.
"Chief..." he began but Blair interrupted,
smiling. "Go ahead, Florence." He lifted the
afghan exposing his stomach.
"I just wanna make sure, you're alright," the
Sentinel said and tenderly pushed up Blair's
shirt. His hands were warm as they roamed
over the skin, his sense of touch opened
widely to check for any indication of a
hidden injury he might have missed. Blair
moaned a few times and drew his legs up
again.
"Sorry, Chief, I'll try to be as gentle as
possible."
"...it's okay." Blair fought the urge to pry
Jim's hands away.
Satisfied that his friend would be sore but
okay in the morning, Jim withdrew his hand.
"Do you want to sleep here? I think your bed
would be a better idea."
Betty raised her head at the sound of his
voice. Recognizing the Sentinel, she settled
back into the warm cave under Blair's arm.
"I don't wanna move, man," Blair confessed.
"You mind me sleeping here?"
"Of course not," Jim replied. "I brought you
this." He indicated the hot-water bottle. "It
might help your cramping muscles."
Pulling the afghan back again, Blair took the
bottle and placed it over his hurting
stomach. At first he flinched at the
pressure but as soon as the warmth crept
through his clothes and body, he visibly
relaxed. "Thanks, man. That feels pretty
good."
Jim stood up after gently petting the little
dog's head. Betty pried an eye open and
closed it again with a contented sigh.
"Call me if you need anything, okay?" He
pointed a finger at Blair. "I mean that,
Chief."
"Sure." Blair nodded. As Jim turned toward
the stairs, he called after him. "You don't
think we could keep her, huh?"
The larger man looked over to his partner
and friend. Seeing the hope and love for
that animal shining in Sandburg's eyes, Jim
winked at him. "I guess Betty would fit quite
nicely into our world of jaguars and wolves,
don't you agree?"
The end
1