"Just what I told you, Sandburg. He came in here, said he wasn't feeling well, and he went home."
"But he was fine before I went to pick up lunch," the detective said, almost to himself.
"He looked pretty pale to me. Maybe a sensory spike?"
"I think if that was the case, he'd have waited for me…something must have happened while I was out."
"Well, go finish the Sawyer report, and then you can go. Let me know if you need anything."
Arriving at the loft three hours later, Blair was not surprised to see his partner sitting on the balcony. He changed; grabbed two beers; and then joined him. "Hey Jim, how are you feeling?" He asked quietly. When he got no response, he reached a hand out to grab a shoulder. The touch brought Jim out of the chair. "Whoa! Sorry, Big Guy didn't mean to sneak up on you," he said, holding both hands out, palms up. 'Didn't know I could,' he finished to himself.
"Sorry Chief, just thinking…thought we could order in. I…ah…I didn't feel like cooking."
"Sounds good. Jim, you alright?"
"Yeah, just…"
"What happened while I was out getting lunch?" He had risen to stand beside his friend at the railing. He let the question hang there, knowing he'd get an answer when Jim was ready. They watched the sunset in comfortable silence. Once the street lights came on, Jim settled back into his chair, and turned to face his roommate.
"Steven called. He received a letter from," Jim looked back out to the bay, "our mother. She's going to be in town this weekend, and she wants to have lunch with him."
"With him?" Blair repeated. "You got a letter too."
"No."
"Then Steven got the invite for both of you." He couldn't stand the tone of desolation in Jim's voice.
"No."
"There has to be some mistake!" He was out of his chair.
"No mistake. Seems she shared Dad's view that they didn't need a kid who was a freak."
"That's not true!" Blair shouted as he fell to his knees of front of his Sentinel. His hands pulled the face up to look at him, and he flinched involuntarily when he found himself gazing into the eyes of a lost eight year old. "It's not true," he repeated in a whisper.
Jim's forehead rested on his, and they stayed that way for several minutes. The younger man could feel the minute trembling of the muscular body. "Come on Jim, I'm getting cold. Let's go inside." He kept a hand on his friend as he led him to the couch. He put on the tea kettle and found some stew to microwave – one eye on the couch as he worked. They ate in silence, Jim playing with his food. When they were done, Blair cleaned up and returned to the couch.
"We haven't been out of town for a long time, Chief. What do you say we go up to Ambush Ridge for the weekend?" Jim kept his eyes on the dark TV set as he talked.
"I think you need to see your mother, Jim. I know this is really out of the blue, but you can't just ignore it. It won't go away. I really think you should go to lunch with Steven – for your own peace of mind."
"Stevie deserves to get to know his mother. He barely remembers her. If he can forge a relationship with her, I want that for him."
"You're a good man, Jim Ellison," Blair said, a brilliant smile on his face. "I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve you as my best friend."
"I figure it was something really bad, Chief," he responded with a hint of a grin. "So, Ambush Ridge?"
"Sure. It will be good to get out of town for a few days. Think we could do some fishing while we are at it?"
"I'd like that, Chief. I'll pick up the food in the morning. I'll go get the packs and gear now." He rose and headed for the door, but stopped halfway across the room and turned back to the couch. "Thank you, Blair."
The senior detective was quiet the next day. Blair stayed close. His partner was an Olympic Gold Medalist when it came to repression, and the guide was worried about what would happen. He had talked to Simon, explained the situation, and asked that they be kept at the station if at all possible. He wasn't sure how Jim would react to stress right now. Emotional turmoil had a habit of throwing his senses completely out of whack.
They found their favorite camping spot empty, probably because it was a little late in the year for camping out, Blair thought as he shivered. They quickly set up camp; the normalcy of the routine easing some of the stress in the older man, and he smiled at his partner as they both took in the warmth of the camp fire.
Blair woke sometime before dawn, and realized his tent mate was missing. He found Jim zoned in front of the fire. He was stone cold. "Damn it, Jim!" He yelled as he settled in front of him. "Come on, Jim, this is so not the answer here. I need you to hear me, listen to your guide. Feel me Jim, feel my heart. Come back to me. I'm worried about you. I can't help you when you're hidden in there. You're starting to scare me, here. You're cold, too cold. Come back to me. Your guide needs you, Sentinel."
It took him almost twenty minutes to bring him back. Jim was silent as he looked into the worried eyes of his guide. He ran a hand across Blair's cheek. "Talk to me, Jim. Tell me what's going on in that screwy brain of yours."
The noble head fell. "She doesn't want me, never did. She wants Stevie…I guess I've just been kidding myself all these years." The head came up, and he focused on his friend. "It hurts, Chief. Damn it! I swore I'd never let her hurt me again…"
"Oh Jim, I think you need to go talk to her. At least find out why she left."
"Cause she didn't want a kid who was a freak!" Jim roared as he stumbled to his feet.
"You don't believe that!" Blair argued.
"I may not have all your fancy degrees, Sandburg, but I am bright enough to read between the lines when she asks to see Steven, not me."
"Jim, there could be a hundred reasons why she left, and why she asked to see Steven. Maybe she just wants to see you one at a time."
"Don't rationalize with me, Blair. I'm not a child." Jim was beyond angry.
Blair took a deep breath and counted to twenty. "I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I just…I hate to see you hurting. I don't know why she didn't write you, too. But I do know she's missing out – big time." As he spoke, he walked, putting himself into Jim's personal space; wrapping his arms around the thin waist. "She's so wrong, man. So wrong." They stayed that way for several minutes, Jim's arms slowly engulfing the smaller body. "You're freezing, Jim, come on." Blair finally said, leading him back to the tent and helping him into the sleeping bag. He curled up next to Jim in his own.
They slept late, and spent the afternoon fishing. Blair knew Jim was still working through his feelings, but he seemed calmer somehow. Maybe it was the wilderness, maybe it was…well as long as Jim was doing better he supposed it didn't really matter.
They took a walk just before sunset, up to the crest of the ridge. Jim pulled his guide to his side, and slung an arm over his shoulder. As they watched the sun settle for the night, he felt something inside relax as Blair settled against his frame.
He ignored the blinking light on the answering machine when they returned Sunday afternoon, but Blair did not. He checked the caller ID and saw three of the calls were from Steven. Two were from an area code he did not recognize. He waited until Jim settled himself on the couch with a beer, though, before hitting the play button.
"Jim, its' Stevie, call me!"
"Jim, where the hell are you? I need to talk to you, now!"
"Come on Jim. Call me! Please, it's important."
"James…Steven gave me your number. I'd really like to talk with you. It's…your mother…603-555-7269."
"Jimmy, please call me. I need to explain some things. Please?"
The pale blue eyes were wide with confusion. Blair brought the phone over, and settled next to his partner. "Jim, I think you need to call Steven." He dialed and handed the phone over, but Jim reacted as if bitten, leaping from the couch, and moving to stand before the balcony, looking out. "Steven, its Blair…okay…alright…yeah we have the number…no, he's…I'll have him call you."
"You need to call your mother." He stood facing his friend. "It's time, Jim." The bigger man took the phone and dialed, his hands shaking.
"This is Jim Ellison…yes…6:30 pm…I'd like to bring my partner. Thank you." He hung up. "Dinner tonight, Chez Andre's. We leave at 6:10 pm." He then went upstairs.
At 6 p.m. he came down from his room, dressed in a soft grey suit with a black silk shirt. Blair was wearing a black suit and a blue-black shirt. There was no talking on the ride over. Blair kept his eyes glued to Jim's face, concerned he'd zone. Once he handed the keys to the valet, Jim turned to him. "Chief?"
"I'm right here. You want to leave, we leave. It'll be alright, Jim." A warm hand settled on his shoulder for a squeeze before Jim opened the door and walked in.
"James?" A stylish woman with short grey hair and glasses, asked softly as the maitre d' stopped at her table.
"Ma'am. My partner, Blair Sandburg." They sat down, Jim ramrod straight in his chair.
"You grew to be a handsome man, James, and a talented one from what your brother tells me…I want to apologize for not inviting you to lunch with Steven…You see, I thought…in the fall of 1989 I was on a world cruise. I didn't know…until lunch yesterday that…that you'd been found. I thought you had died in Peru."
The blue eyes widened and some of the ice melted.