REGRETS

by Rebel8954

Blair slowly exhaled. "Nothing's going to get settled all at once, Jim. There isn't going to be a big epiphany or anything. It's not that easy! No angels blowing trumpets heralding the arrival of mind-altering wisdom!" "No shit, Sandburg." Jim eyed his friend with more than a little trepidation.

Chancellor Katherine Edwards always enjoyed walking from her reserved parking space to the Administration Building in the mornings. Surrounded by students rushing to classes, all would seem right with her world. It wasn't until she was sitting behind her desk that her ideal world was punctured by the egos of professors and the unrealistic expectations of students. Her one pleasure during her workday was working on raising funds for her beloved University.

Having admitted early in life that she had practically no maternal feelings, Katherine Edwards had dedicated her life to academia. Rainier University had become her child. And she would nurture and protect that child with every weapon she possessed. Which was why she was relieved that Blair Sandburg had finally been removed. In her opinion, delays in completing his dissertation, repeated absences (both medical and unauthorized), and his involvement with Brad Ventriss' arrest had been more than enough grounds for dismissal.

Chancellor Edwards smirked as she approached the Administration Building. The fiasco with Sandburg's thesis had given her the opening she needed. When he repudiated his work and claimed it as fraudulent, it had been all she could do not to smile. All the backlash of criticism over the event was laid not only on Sandburg's shoulders but also at the door of his advisers who had been protecting him the past few years.

"Look out!"

Startled out of her thoughts, the Chancellor stopped as a young man on roller blades skidded to a stop in front of her. "Young man, watch where you're going!" she angrily spoke.

"Chancellor Edwards?" The young man asked, running a hand through his dark blonde hair. "You're Chancellor Katherine Edwards, right?"

"Yes, but that has nothing…"

The young man thrust an envelope into her hands. "You've just been served, Chancellor Edwards." He suddenly grinned as he shifted his backpack more securely. "Have a nice day."

Startled once more, the Chancellor watched in open-mouthed silence as the young man skated away, expertly dodging students walking to classes. Then she opened the envelope.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg had checked in at the Ranger Station, their objective to reach a campsite that was secluded but not so far that it would be a major effort for Jim to walk from the truck.

Jim's hearing had detected a family camping close to their first choice.

Blair had vetoed the second choice once he caught sight of the steep trail involved.

Fortunately, their third choice was a winner. Jim detected no nearby campers and Blair was happy with the gentle sloping terrain leading down to the river. He was so happy he didn't complain very much about the half-mile walk to get to a Sentinel approved campsite.

It took Blair two trips to carry all the gear from the truck to the campsite. By the time he had brought the second load, Jim had managed to set up the tent and was clearing a space for the campfire. "I would've helped," he pointed out as he unpacked the second load.

Jim shrugged. "It didn't take much effort. But you could get some wood for the fire." He grinned at Blair's snort.

"Sure. No problem. Send the directionally-challenged out by himself." Blair brushed his hands on his jeans and stood. He hesitated then looked at his friend. "Jim?" When the other man looked up, he continued, "Do you think Chancellor Edwards got the legal papers today?"

"Both she and Sid were to be served today," Jim nodded. 'And I wish I could have been there to see the look on that bitch's face.' He waited, expecting Blair to say something more but the younger man turned away. "Hey, Sandburg."

"Yeah?" Blair turned around.

Jim frowned, knowing what he wanted to say but unsure of how to say it. "Uh...I know the next couple of days aren't going to be easy. For either of us." He cleared his throat. "So I just want to say now, before we get started, that I'm...I'm glad we're doing this."

"So am I," Blair softly added.

Jim nodded. "This is sorta like pouring alcohol onto an open wound. You know it has to be done but you really don't want to do it." He took a deep breath. "I guess I'm scared that I'm gonna say something the wrong way and screw this up. You know...those fear-based responses. So I just want you to know that no matter what I say...or how nasty I say it...I want this worked out. I want things right between us again."

Blair gently smiled as he walked to his friend. "I want it to, man. I want us back again, too." He patted Jim's arm.

Jim briefly touched his forehead to Blair's before stepping back. "Go on, Hiawatha. Try not to get lost." He laughed when Blair casually flipped him off.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Good morning. Berkshire Publishing. How may I help you?" The receptionist smiled even though the person on the other end of the phone couldn't see her. "One moment. I'll connect you, sir."

As she transferred the call, she saw Sid Graham opening the door. "Oh, Mr. Graham! This gentleman is here to see you." She pointed to the middle-aged man in a gray suit patiently waiting in the lobby.

"Thank you, Jeanne." Sid approached the man with a practiced easy smile. "I'm Sid Graham."

The man handed Sid an envelope. "Mr. Graham, you've just been served." Smiling politely, he walked about of the office.

"What?" Frowning, Sid opened the envelope. "Shit." He walked back to the receptionist's desk. "Jeanne, call Jeff Dannon in Legal. Tell him I need to see him immediately."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Leg hurting much?" Blair looked across the small campfire to where Jim squirmed for the third time in as many minutes.

"Not really," Jim admitted.

"We don't have a set schedule, you know," Blair softly spoke. "We can wait until later to talk."

"Can we?" Jim demanded.

Blair slowly exhaled. "Nothing's going to get settled all at once, Jim. There isn't going to be a big epiphany or anything. It's not that easy! No angels blowing trumpets heralding the arrival of mind-altering wisdom!"

"No shit, Sandburg." Jim eyed his friend with more than a little trepidation.

Blair crossed his legs and leaned forward. "You know that no matter what happens with that lawsuit, I can't be a cop, don't you?"

"Why not?" Jim demanded. "The lawsuit will settle any credibility problems."

"And you think that's the only problem with my becoming a cop?"

"You'd be a good cop!" Jim fiercely argued. "Better than a lot of people carrying a badge! You've proved it time and again!"

Blair stared at his friend for a few seconds. "I'm not a cop, Jim. God love you and Simon for trying to do that for me." He rubbed his hands across his face. "I'm not saying that I don't want to work with you. I do. We need to work together for this Sentinel/Shaman thing to work. I just can't do it as a cop and be...me."

"But..."

"I may have done a cop's work, Jim, but I wasn't a cop," Blair explained. "I wasn't restricted by all the rules that you guys work under. And maybe I was restricting myself more than I needed in order to work with you." He shrugged. "Maybe I'm more Naomi's son that I want to give myself credit for being. All I know is that being a cop is not what will work for me. I've just got to figure out what will work."

"We will figure it out," Jim corrected with a smile.

"Yeah." Blair grinned. "We will."

Jim took a deep breath. "Okay, that wasn't so bad," he muttered.

'Yeah, but that wasn't the hard one," Blair pointed out.

"Wasn't as hard as cleaning out your office," Jim mentioned after a moment's silence. "You know, if the lawsuit doesn't work, we could turn Conner loose on Edwards."

Blair snorted. "I might even pay to see that," he admitted. "I thought Conner was going to hit Edwards with something."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ten Days Ago

Blair looked around the small office, not knowing where to start…not wanting to start. He repressed the urge to simply sit down in the floor and indulge in a major hissy fit. While it might make him feel marginally better, it wouldn't accomplish anything. He wished he'd given into his first impulse and arrived in the dead of night to clean out his office. But that would have brought Jim, in full Blessed Protector Mode, flying after him.

So here he was…bright and early so everyone could give him sideways looks and barely refrain from whispering about him until he was out of earshot. Those who did look at him did so with full scorn and derision. 'Ah yes. How the mighty have fallen.' He wondered if his arrival at Hargrove Hall would produce more anonymous phone calls.

The calls from former students and colleagues at Rainier had been bad enough. Students were disappointed that Blair had admitted to fraud and were vocal about expressing that disappointment. In the dark of the night in the privacy of his bedroom, Blair admitted it hurt when idols are revealed to have feet of clay. So he tucked the hurt and pain deep inside himself, planning to process it when he could look at it objectively.

But it was the evil, whispered voices that warned him about attending the Academy and joining the Cascade PD that frightened him. He didn't think anybody would be stupid enough to challenge Jim openly, and Major Crimes had closed ranks around both he and Jim. But Major Crimes weren't the entire police department.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Blair took a deep breath and tried to figure out where to start. He instinctively flinched when the door behind him abruptly opened. Turning, he sighed. "Chancellor Edwards."

The petite woman barely acknowledged him. She looked around the small room with distaste. "You will have your office cleaned out today. I had assumed you would have had it done by now, but I suppose that was too much to be expected." Before Blair could answer, she thrust a piece of paper at him. "This is a list of the University property for which you are responsible. I expect it to be properly inventoried and boxed up, Mr. Sandburg. I'll be back in a few hours with Security to take possession of the University's property." She fixed her cold eyes on him. "I expect you to have completed your business by then. You won't like what happens if you aren't finished."

"Is that a threat?"

Blair looked up from the paper as Chancellor Edwards spun around in surprise.

Jim stood in the doorway, leaning on a cane. The look on his face had forced more than one suspect to confess, and he was aiming that look solely at one of the people in the work he truly wouldn't regret seeing vanish from the face of the Earth. Behind Jim stood Henri Brown and Brian Rafe.

"Detective Ellison." The Chancellor quickly regained her composure. "This is…"

"This is a public building is a publicly funded school," Jim brusquely interrupted. "I repeat. Was that a threat?"

"Not at all," Edwards coolly denied. "I simply wish Mr. Sandburg to clearly understand the University has had enough of his delaying tactics. He's had more than enough time to clean out his office."

"Office?" Henri edged past Jim and looked around. "This is an office?"

Rafe tapped the door as he joined his partner in the small room. "Actually, it's a storage closet."

Henri looked at Edwards and shook his head. "Man, what a rip."

"How dare…"

Jim glanced at his watch. "You're the one using delaying tactics, Chancellor. I suggest you either leave or extend your deadline."

The woman flushed. "I'll have someone from Security here to oversee your packing."

"Are you accusing members of the Cascade Police Department of improper actions?" Simon Banks, awkwardly hobbling on crutches, stood in the doorway. He drew himself up to as close to his full height as possible.

Blair's blue eyes widened as the formidable Chancellor actually took a step backwards. "Of course not, Captain Banks. But I can hardly expect you to know…"

"Bloody, hell, woman!" Megan Conner growled from the hallway. "Either start packing or get out of our way!"

With a glare at all of them, Chancellor Edwards pushed her way out of the small room. She paused in the hallway and exchanged furious looks with Megan.

Megan took a step closer to her and menacingly growled.

Edwards flushed and, with a final nod in Simon's direction, walked down the hallway.

Simon shook his head as he hobbled to Blair's desk and sat in the chair. "Is this room really as small as it looks?"

"Smaller," Jim admitted. He quickly moved out of the way as Megan maneuvered on her own crutches towards the sofa in the corner. Both Henri and Rafe moved papers and books aside so she could sit.

"What…" Blair took a deep breath. "What are you guys doing here?"

Jim half-smiled. "Figured we could help you get this done. With all of us helping, it shouldn't take that long."

Blair cleared the rest of the sofa so Jim could sit. "Yeah, it will. I mean…" He took a deep breath and turned to stack the books in the floor. "Thanks, guys," he mumbled.

Simon grunted. "Brown! Rafe! Go get those boxes and packing materials. Sandburg! Hand me that list Edwards gave you."

Both detectives headed down the hallway, ignoring the looks and whispers.

"Better make sure it's an accurate list," Megan irritably muttered. "Stupid woman probably wouldn't know an Easter hat from a Sioux headdress."

"And you do?" Jim asked, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Sandy does," Megan cheerfully retorted. She glanced out the open doorway at the lingering spectators. "Don't you people have classes to attend?" she demanded.

Jim tried not to grin at the sight of students retreating in the face of Conner's bark.

"Here, Simon." Blair put Edwards' list on the desk. "Actually, she has left off a couple of items."

Simon looked on the cluttered desk for a pencil or pen. Failing to spot one, he tried to open the lap drawer only to have it jam halfway open. He looked up at Blair in exasperation.

"There's a trick to it," Blair muttered. "It's always stuck like that." He opened the upper right hand drawer, reached in and smacked the side of the drawer next to the lap drawer. He nodded at Simon who opened the lap drawer all the way.

Reaching into the lap drawer, Simon took out two pens marked "Cascade Police Department". He put one in his pocket and rolled his eyes in Jim's direction.

Rafe and Henri returned with Rafe pushing a loaded dolly in front of him. "Okay, we've got boxes. We've got bubble-wrap…give me that!" Rafe grabbed the bubble-wrap just as Henri began popping it. "And we've got that popcorn stuff."

"And we've got trash bags!" Henri grinned as he held up a roll. "Not that you've got any trash in here, Hairboy."

None of them missed the edge of hysteria in Blair's giggle. "No comment, man."

The time passed quickly. Rafe and Henri would bring a stack of items to Blair who was sitting on the floor next to his desk. Blair would identify them, separating them into trash, University, and Sandburg piles. Jim and Megan sat on the couch and packed the University's books and artifacts in boxes, carefully labeling them. Henri stuffed trash into the trash bags and hauled them out to the dumpster behind Hargrove Hall. Rafe carefully packed Blair's personal property and labeled those boxes. Simon completed the process by clearly correcting Edwards' list as well as listing all the remaining items as either trash or Sandburg's personal property.

Much to Blair's relief, when Chancellor Edwards and two Security guards showed up, they were finished. Simon thrust the corrected list at her and pointed at the boxes marked 'Rainier'. "Blair corrected your list, Madam," he coldly informed her. "There were items not listed here that belonged to the University."

"It seems to be in order," Edwards admitted. She eyed the boxes marked 'Sandburg' but didn't say anything. "What about the items on this list marked as 'trash'?"

"Just that," Megan growled from the couch. "Trash. It's been deposited in the dumpster behind the building. You're more than welcome to go through them."

The two women locked eyes with one another. To no one's surprise, Edwards looked away first. "Good day, Mr. Sandburg."

"Not so fast," Jim interrupted. He nodded towards the list in her hand. "You need to sign off that everything is in order and provide Blair with a signed copy."

"Are you insinuating…" Edwards angrily turned towards him.

"It doesn't matter what, if anything, I'm insinuating," Jim coldly interrupted. "It's a matter of documenting that everyone is satisfied with who has what."

Simon held out a pen in her direction.

Edwards angrily exhaled but took the pen and signed her name. She shoved the paper towards Blair and slammed the pen down on the desk.

With a deep breath, Blair carefully signed his name, ignoring the shaky signature.

"I'll be right back," Edwards promised as she snatched the paper.

Rafe and Henri silently loaded Blair's boxes onto the dolly. "Okay, I can get this, partner," Henri decided. "You grab that box and Hairboy can get the last one. We are outta here." He pushed the dolly towards the door. "And that witch better not be in my way, either," he muttered.

Simon nodded as Rafe held out a hand to Megan to help her to her feet. "We'll meet you outside," he said as he pushed himself up from his chair. "We'll get this stuff to the loft, Sandburg. Joel's going to meet us there with pizza and beer."

"See you in a few, Sandburg," Rafe quietly promised as he picked up a box.

Blair silently nodded, not looking up as he worked a key from his key ring. As he put the key on the empty desk, he heard them quietly leave. Seconds later, another key was gently put next to his. He looked up to see Jim standing close to him, watching him intently. He returned the stare for a few moments, then slowly nodded. He refused to let the tears fall.

Jim stiffened when Edwards returned. He watched as Blair slid the keys across the desk and accepted the signed inventory sheet in return. "Come on, Chief. It's time."

Blair took a deep breath and nodded. Ignoring Edwards' glare, he answered, "Yeah, man. It's time."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Present Day

"I really never did thank you guys for helping me that day," Blair quietly spoke. "I didn't realize it would be as hard as it was."

Jim uncomfortably shrugged. "We knew. Hell, we would've done it without you…just to keep you away from all that crap."

'Others talk but Jim acts.' Blair smiled. "But then I would've missed you guys ganging up on Chancellor Edwards." He chuckled at the look of unholy glee on Jim's face. "What say we make an early night of it?"

"Get a good night's sleep before the bloodletting begins?"

Blair shot a look across the campfire towards his partner. "Is that what you think this is?" he demanded.

"No." Jim wearily waved a hand. "I meant what I said, Sandburg. This is something that's got to be done. It's just not something I'm looking forward to."

Silence.

"I mean, I'm looking forward to getting all this stuff settled and put behind us so we can get back to how things were."

Silence.

"Well, not that they'll be the same. I mean, how things should be."

Silence.

"I'm screwing this up, aren't I?"

Blair finally allowed his smile to emerge. "No. Jim, I know this is gonna be harder for you than for me. See, when you mess up, you do something to try and make it right. Your actions are your words. But sometimes, I need the words, too. And when I screw up, you need to see actions as well as hear the words."

Jim rubbed his hands over his face. "So how do we do this? Chronological order?"

"Well, that would be logical," Blair solemnly admitted. He chuckled when Jim looked at him in shock. "Hey, please calm down. We'll get there, man, because we want to get there. We'll get mad. We'll yell. We'll stomp off in anger. Well, one of us will be able to do that. But we'll come back because the one thing we don't want to do is walk away from each other."

Jim nodded. "Deal."

"So, how about tonight we think about the one thing that has really hurt us. What have I done to hurt you. What you've done to hurt me. Then we'll talk about it tomorrow."

Jim slowly nodded at the suggestion. "It'll be a starting point." He hesitated. "Just understand that when I do stomp away in anger, it's not that I don't want to finish it. I will. If I do that, it's because I just need some space and time, okay? I don't want to be so angry that I can't hear you."

"Deal," Blair agreed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Good morning, Mr. Hamm. Thank you for taking my call."

"I've been expecting it, Mr. Dannon" Michael Hamm admitted. "I have you on speakerphone so my assistant can make notes." He winked at his secretary who rolled her eyes.

"No problem, Mr. Hamm," Jeff Dannon chuckled. "I'm doing the same. I'm calling in regard to this lawsuit."

"Yes?" Michael nodded. "I presume everything is clearly outlined."

"Well, we have a problem with it. Berkshire Publishing is not responsible for the actions of Rainier University," Dannon pointed out.

Michael loved it when his opponents allowed themselves to be divided and conquered. "I really can't comment upon our lawsuit against Rainier University."

"Then you've filed a suit against them as well?" Jeff asked.

"Of course," Michael assured him. "But the lawsuit against Sid Graham and Berkshire Publishing has to do with the unauthorized use and release of Blair Sandburg's thesis."

"Mr. Graham assures me that he received the thesis in good faith," Dannon commented.

"Mr. Graham can assure you whatever he wishes," Michael politely replied. He ignored his secretary's snort. "The fact is, he did not receive that thesis from Blair Sandburg. And when he contacted Mr. Sandburg, he was specifically told that the thesis was not for publication. Against Mr. Sandburg's express wishes, Mr. Graham made part of that thesis public. When Mr. Graham did that, he caused irreparable harm to not only Mr. Sandburg's reputation but also contributed to the physical injury of several police officers of the Cascade Police Department."

"Well, that's going to be rather hard to prove," Dannon protested.

"Not at all," Michael assured him. "I have a sworn affidavit from Blair Sandburg's mother stating that she forwarded Mr. Sandburg's thesis to Mr. Graham without Mr. Sandburg's knowledge. She further states that this was done to solicit Mr. Graham's editorial assistance and nothing more." He smiled. "She's quite willing to testify to this in court. I assure you that she'll make a most convincing witness."

"You know, I think a lot of this is just simple miscommunication. Certainly no harm was intended," Dannon suggested. "It could be that Mr. Sandburg, because of his youth, was simply overwhelmed by events."

"Mr. Sandburg isn't a child," Michael sharply rebuked. "He's an intelligent young man who was working on his doctoral thesis. He's lived in more countries than either you or I know about and dealt with tribes that have had very little positive contact with the outside world. He's not a high school senior without any experience in the world. I really advise you not to try that sort of defense."

"And what will it take to make this go away?" Dannon inquired.

"A public statement by Mr. Graham admitting his improper actions," Michael quickly answered. "A public statement by Berkshire Publishing that Mr. Graham's actions will not be repeated in the future. And a monetary settlement that we will, of course, negotiate."

"What's your fax number?" Dannon asked. "I'll have to run this past the Board of Directors and get back to you."

"I'll put my assistant on the phone." Michael leaned back in his chair. "She can give you that number and any other information you need." He put Dannon on hold. "Treat him gently, Mrs. Taylor."

Imogene Taylor closed her notebook and sniffed. "Pompous New York puppy." She stood as the door was opened. "Good day, Mr. Morgan."

"Good morning, Mrs. Taylor." Clint Morgan politely stepped aside to let her pass.

Mrs. Imogene Taylor, as Michael Hamm's personal assistant, insisted on formal politeness within the office she ran with brutal efficiency. From the young telephone receptionist to each and every attorney, no one was exempt from her censure. And no one, not even Michael Hamm, contradicted her. Clint, a lowly just-out-of-law school attorney, had learned very quickly not to irritate the older woman.

"Sit down, Clint," Michael invited, waving his hand towards a nearby chair. "That was Jeff Dannon, Counsel for Berkshire Publishing." He grinned. "They're caving."

"So soon?" Clint frowned. "I thought they would have held out long enough to consider joining forces with Rainier."

Michael chuckled. "In-house attorneys quickly lose their edge for courtroom battle. No, Mr. Dannon's chief interest is in protecting Berkshire Publishing. He knows Graham screwed up, and Berkshire Publishing doesn't have a legal leg to stand on. If they wanted to make it a fight, they could try to infer that Blair's mother was acting in his interest. Dannon tried to infer that Blair was a young man out of his depth."

"But Dannon doesn't have the backbone to make a fight of it?" Clint's dark eyes sparkled.

Michael shrugged. "More likely Berkshire Publishing doesn't have the backbone." He tapped his fingers on the desk. "Do some research to see if Berkshire Publishing has ridden this roller coaster before. That might account for their willingness to settle so quickly. If we get into some serious negotiations, that information could come in handy." He smiled as Clint nodded. "By the way, good work on serving Chancellor Edwards."

Clint chuckled. "Sometimes it comes in handy to look like a wide-eyed freshman. She wasn't going to give a roller-blading student a second glance."

"Well, I'm sure she'll be giving you a second glance this afternoon," Michael assured him. "We have a meeting with them here at 1pm."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Breakfast was eaten in strained silence. Blair watched as Jim awkwardly walked around, trying to ease the stiffness in his leg after a night's sleep on the ground. For that reason, if nothing else, he hoped they could settle their differences so his friend could sleep in a comfortable bed. Nevertheless, Blair was surprised when Jim spoke first.

"What hurt me the most was your dissertation."

Blair blinked. 'Well, that certainly came out of left field.' He settled more comfortably on the ground next to the extinguished campfire. "How so? You mean the part you read?"

"The whole thing." Jim leaned heavily on his cane. He stared at the blues sky above them. Wisps of clouds floated far above them, giving promise to a beautiful day. "From day one, I hated it. I may have accepted its necessity. But I hated it."

Blair motioned with his hands for Jim to continue. "And?" When Jim hesitated, he sighed. "Jim, it's okay. I'm probably going to have hurt feelings about what you say. Just like you'll have hurt feelings about what I'll say."

Jim took a deep breath. "I hated that damned dissertation because I had no choice about it! I agreed to it because I needed your help with my senses. And you were so careful to write down everything! There it would be…every time I screwed up…every time these senses dropped me to my knees…all out there for everybody to read and see! Freak! Failure!"

Blair anxiously watched as Jim paced back and forth.

"Call it ego if you want, but I don't think anybody wants to be exposed like that!" Jim raged. "After a while, I thought 'we're friends'. Then you'd go and start scribbling in a notebook or typing stuff into your laptop. Dammit, Sandburg! There were times I wanted to take my piece and just shoot that damn thing and put a match to your notebooks!"

Jim took a deep breath and stared at Blair.

"Then I read part of it. I couldn't believe you talked about me like that. Sure, I knew this was an academic paper and not a dime-store novel. It had to be…precise and logical…without any personal feelings. But you were talking about ME, Sandburg! ME! A guy I thought was your best friend! And that hurt! A lot! Oh, I listened to your explanations; and I could understand them on one level. But on a personal level, it still hurt. What kind of friend would write about another like that? And if you could, were you even my friend at all?"

"Jeez, go for the jugular, why don't you?" Blair breathlessly muttered.

"Oh, no, you don't, Sandburg! This is how it's supposed to go, isn't it? Don't go acting all upset now! We're supposed to get all this out in the open, right? Well, there it is! Every time I brought up that dissertation, you'd talk about how you'd protect my identity! But you didn't, did you? Any observer worth his salt would've seen how much that dissertation bothered me. But you didn't see it or didn't care!" Jim took a deep breath, suddenly very tired. "A friend would've seen it."

Blair wrapped his arms around his stomach and gently rocked back and forth, his eyes on the campfire ashes in front of him.

Jim laboriously lowered himself to the ground across from Blair. "I'm sorry," he finally muttered.

Blair shook his head. "No," he whispered. "Don't be."

Jim slowly laid back on the soft grass. He stared up at the sky and sighed. "Most of all, I hated it that you were right," he quietly spoke. "All I am…all I ever was…laid out for everybody to see. Especially about those 'fear-based responses'. Just like Pavlov's dog, I'd respond just as predicted. And I'd lash out."

Blair took a deep breath. "My turn, okay? I always intended to protect your identity, Jim. I just didn't know how. For so long, I'd searched for a Sentinel. Then I found one. And he was also someone good and kind." He smiled, hearing Jim's derisive snort. "I saw a man learn to accept and use the gifts he'd been given. I saw a man who tried, everyday, to live up to the motto of 'serve and protect'. And in the wee hours of the morning, I knew I couldn't let anyone know about you. It was just too dangerous."

Blair swallowed and stared at the reclining figure. "Every time I would go back to rewrite the diss to protect your identity, I wound up taking the heart and guts out of it. I realized that being a Sentinel is more than just heightened senses! It's the soul of the man along with the senses."

"Then why?" Jim softly asked. "Why did you keep writing it?"

Blair harshly laughed. "Reality check time, man. I had to turn in something. And let me tell you, my advisers weren't really all that happy with what they saw. They could see my revision was incomplete. It wasn't much more than a recitation of test results." He sighed. "So I finished it. And it was good, Jim! It was good! At the very least, I could let you have that as a memento or something. And we could have used it as a guide book or reference."

Bracing his clenched hands on his thighs, Blair took a deep breath. "I swear, Jim, I was going to go back and rewrite it as best I could to protect you. If that got turned down by my Committee, I was going to give it up and see if I could submit something else. That 'thin blue line' junk I told Simon about years ago."

He looked at his friend. "But I had to try, Jim! I had to try to make the Sentinel thesis work! And I'm sorry it's bothered you all these years! I really am! I honestly thought you understood that I had to separate Blair the friend from Blair the scientist. Just like you have to separate Jim the friend from Jim the cop."

"And just like you got mad at me for being Jim the cop when Sweet Roy was murdered, I got mad at you for being Blair the scientist when you wrote your dissertation," Jim nodded.

"And Blair and Jim the friends got stuck in the middle," Blair added.

Slowly Jim sat up. "No more," he firmly decided. "Jim and Blair the friends do not get shoved aside no matter what. From now on, Blair the friend has priority."

"So does Jim the friend," Blair happily nodded.

Jim rubbed his face. "Look, I don't mean this to be a cop-out, but can we wait a while for your turn? I'm just really tired right now."

"Sure. I'm wiped out, too," Blair admitted. He watched as Jim stretched out on the ground once again and closed his eyes. Quietly, he went into the tent and returned with his blanket. He carefully spread it over the reclining man. "You okay? I'm gonna take a quick walk."

"Don't go too far, okay?" Jim mumbled.

Blair patted Jim's shoulder. "I promise."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mr. Michael Hamm. This is Mr. Frederick Van Zant and Chancellor Katherine Edwards of Rainier University."

"Thank you, Mrs. Taylor." Michael stood up from the conference table. "Please. Have a seat. May I present my associate, Clint Morgan? I believe you and he have met, Chancellor Edwards."

"Not by name," Edwards coolly corrected.

Van Zant, a lean man in his late sixties with graying hair and blue eyes, smiled cordially at the younger man.

"Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. That will be all," Michael smiled. When the door closed, he motioned to the tape recorder on the table. "I hope you don't mind," he said as he sat back down. "I find a recorder is better than a stenographer."

"Not at all," Van Zant smiled although Edwards eyed the recorder with distaste. "I brought one of my own." Opening his briefcase, he set his recorder in front of him. "Of course, this is a preliminary meeting. I'm hoping we can discuss this matter off the record and reach an equitable resolution."

"I'm a private practice attorney," Michaels chuckled. "If it's off the record, I can't charge my client, now can I?"

"And that's something that's interesting to me," Edwards spoke up. "How could an unemployed ex-graduate student like Blair Sandburg afford your services?"

Michael fixed Edwards with a pointed glare. "Not all attorneys are money-hungry sharks, madam. Some of us still believe in the more nobler aspects of our profession." He turned on the recorder and carefully recorded the date and time of the meeting as well as those in attendance. Seeing that Van Zant had turned on his recorder as well, he looked at the other attorney. "You requested this meeting, Mr. Van Zant. What shall we discuss?"

"While we haven't been able to discuss this lawsuit with Berkshire Publishing or Mr. Graham, it's our position there is absolutely no merit to this lawsuit," Van Zant began.

'So Dannon's ducking you, is he?' Michael shrugged. "Obviously, we disagree. So I'm not sure what we have left to discuss." Motioning to Clint, he got to his feet.

"While the lawsuit is completely without merit, it can cast doubt about the integrity of Rainier University," Van Zant smoothly continued. "I'm sure you can understand the reluctance of the University to drag all this nonsense through the courts."

"Nonsense?" Michael sat down and tapped his forefinger on the table. "A young man's academic career was shattered and his credibility destroyed. I would hardly call that nonsense."

"No one forced Mr. Sandburg to call that press conference," Van Zant calmly pointed out. "I hardly see how Rainier University can be responsible for his independent actions. And the University has many reasons for his dismissal."

"Rainier University, in the person of Chancellor Katherine Edwards, helped publicize Mr. Sandburg's professional work against his permission." Michael crisply argued. "Since they were not acting as Mr. Sandburg's agent, they basically stole his work. A body of work, I might add, that he'd invested several years of his life in producing. And, while I would personally, like to file suit against various newspapers and television stations, they merely reported the story. However, their zealous behavior in doing so is under legal review as we speak."

Michael stared at Edwards. "As far as Mr. Sandburg's dismissal is concerned, you violated Rainier University's own Code of Ethics. Mr. Sandburg was entitled to a formal written notice of dismissal as well as a scheduled review before any dismissal would be considered complete." He coldly smiled. "But if you want to pursue that argument, I, for one, would be highly motivated to bring the entire Ventriss affair back into the public arena."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Edwards demanded.

"You dismissed Mr. Sandberg after he proved that Brad Ventriss had cheated on a paper," Michael replied. "Yet no action was taken against Mr. Ventriss. Tell me, Chancellor Edwards, was the fact that Brad Ventriss' father was a heavy financial supporter of Rainier University the reason you decided to dismiss Mr. Sandburg without due process?"

"How dare you!" Edwards raged.

"On behalf of my client, Madam, I dare quite a bit," Michaels assured her. He looked at Van Zant. "As far as the press conference is concerned, my client did what he felt was necessary in the face of overwhelming press interference in a police investigation that, in fact, resulted in the injury to several police officers. Faced with a New York publishing company and a local University who refused to listen or accept to his wishes concerning his work, Mr. Sandburg had no choice but to do as he did."

Michael leaned back in his chair. "Think about it. One lone young man facing off against Berkshire Publishing and Rainier University. By the time I get done, Rainier University will look like an institution determined to advance itself at the expense of other people's academic work. Tell me, how many reputable professors will want to be associated with a University that will appropriate their professional work as they see fit? I don't think very many will. Rainier's academic accreditation will most certainly suffer."

"And you're willing to damage the hopes and futures of thousands of students by damaging the University in that fashion?" Edwards demanded. "All for the sake of…"

"All for the sake of one misguided individual," Van Zant quickly interrupted.

"All for the sake of my client who was wronged more than once by Rainier University in general and Chancellor Edwards in particular." Michael nodded. "You can bet your retainer on that, Mr. Van Zant."

"I imagine you have a proposal?" Van Zant asked.

Michael nodded. "A public apology from Chancellor Edwards, on behalf of Rainier University, for Mr. Sandburg's wrongful dismissal, including a clear and concise explanation of why he was wrongfully dismissed. All his student loans will be forgiven. Mr. Sandberg will be allowed to present a thesis for review under the standing rules governing the awarding of PhD's. And if the PhD is granted, he will be allowed to publicly graduate."

"You must be joking," Edwards gasped.

Michael silently stared at Van Zant.

The University attorney reached into his pocket and laid a business card on the table. "Send me something in writing for review."

Michael nodded and got to his feet, followed by Clint.

Edwards started to say something but closed her mouth when Van Zant shook his head at her. Van Zant took his recorder and turned it off. He nodded pleasantly at Michael then ushered Edwards to the door.

"Wow," Clint muttered. He looked at Michael with envy.

There was a tap on the half-opened door. Mrs. Taylor looked in.

"Yes, Mrs. Taylor?"

"This just arrived from Berkshire Publishing." Mrs. Taylor handed the fax to Michael and waited. She stared pointedly at Clint's tie.

Uncertainly, Clint glanced down and saw it was slightly crooked. Flushing, he straightened it.

Michael took out a pen and made several corrections. "Change this and send it back to them, if you please."

"Certainly, Mr. Hamm."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, Jim. You remember when we got back from Peru? When I said it was about friendship?"

It was late afternoon and the two men were sitting on rocks next to the slowly moving river.

"Yeah," Jim nodded. Then he slowly smiled. "I remember being surprised that you were giving up that trip to Borneo. But more than that, I was…happy that you chose me over the trip."

"What really hurt me was that, even after giving up something so important to my academic career, you never really trusted me." Blair stared at the water.

"I did!" Jim protested. "I do!"

"Do you?" Blair turned his head to stare at his friend. "You believed that I would choose money over our friendship? You believed I chose Alex over you. I know you've had trouble in the past with people betraying you for one reason or another. But when did I ever give you reason to believe that I'd do that to you? Was it the diss all along?"

Jim frowned. "I'd like to say it was, but that's too easy an answer. Maybe the dissertation did color my feelings to a certain degree. But you'd proven to me time and again that you were my friend. And you chose to be my Guide."

Jim took a deep breath and quietly spoke. "I watched your press conference and couldn't believe what I was hearing. I couldn't believe that you…anyone…would do something like that for me. You were turning down fame…fortune…women and for what? Someone who wasn't as good a friend as he thought he was. I'd accused you of betrayal…more than once. Then, to protect me, you committed professional suicide. The scales were out of balance, Sandburg. I couldn't…I can't see that you gained as much as you lost. I should want to balance those scales. No, I do want to balance them. I just don't want to go public to do it. And, in my eyes, that makes me a coward. And I don't like that, Chief. I don't like what it says about me."

"It says that you're human and that you've been hurt before," Blair grimly answered. "But I died for you, Jim! Alex killed me because of what I knew about Sentinels. She knew about you and wanted me to help her against you." He turned sideways on the rock. "Then you went and damn near screwed her on that beach! You couldn't wait to get your hands on her! If Megan and I hadn't been in the Temple, would you have done her there? Made little Sentinel babies for me to guide?"

Jim stared in astonishment at Blair's fury. He took a deep breath and forced himself to meet Blair's eyes. "I don't know," he whispered. "Forgive me, Blair; but I just don't know." He took a deep breath. "All I know is that you were dead and then you came back. And I needed to punish her. But when I was with her, I…" He shook his head and looked away. "I just don't know what I was thinking. I probably wasn't thinking at all. And that's no excuse."

"No, it's not," Blair heatedly admitted. "For a while, we were so close, man. Then, it started unraveling. Alex showed up. Then you blew me off when Brad Ventriss' goons worked me over. And don't think that still doesn't piss me off! By the time the diss went public, I didn't feel like I knew you at all sometimes."

"I kept thinking the other shoe was going to fall," Jim admitted. "Ever since I read part of the diss, it felt like things were going all wrong. You died. I screwed up. We couldn't seem to talk or when we did it was about stupid stuff like who were our favorite TV cops."

"Fear."

Dry-mouthed, Jim nodded. "Yeah. Fear. You died. And it hurt so damn bad that I never wanted that sort of pain again. So I screwed up with Ventriss. And when the dissertation was made public, it seemed like the other shoe had fallen. You'd take the money and run. Why wouldn't you? I certainly wasn't giving you any reason to stay. And I'd be alone again."

Blair leaned forward, resting his forehead against Jim's shoulder. "We can't keep doing this to each other, man. Living with stuff that's going to tear us apart. We gotta find a way to bring it into the open before it gets to this point. I can't do this again. I really can't."

"Me either." Jim wrapped his arm around Blair and patted his back. "Me either, Chief."

Slowly Blair wrapped his arms around Jim's waist. "Friends first."

"Friends first," Jim softly agreed. 'No matter what.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The full moon rose over mountains casting silvery shadows upon the quiet campsite. In the distance, a wolf howled.

Blair chuckled as he wiped the blade of his Swiss Army knife. "That sounded like approval."

Jim snorted. "I think I detected a bit of sarcasm in that howl, Sandburg."

"Nah." Blair shook his head. "Incredulity, perhaps. But not sarcasm."

Jim eyed the younger man for a few seconds then held out his right hand.

"You don't have to do this, you know. I mean to prove any sort of trust issue to me," Blair cautioned even as he took Jim's outstretched hand in his.

"It's not a trust issue, Blair," Jim softly disagreed. "It's a friendship issue." He suddenly grinned. "Like you said, I'm more comfortable with actions."

Blair smiled. "No more regrets? We've still got stuff to resolve. We'll argue…even fight. But we'll always come back to this." He squeezed Jim's hand.

"Deal," Jim nodded.

"Dial it down," Blair warned.

"Not this time," Jim shook his head. "This time I want to feel it."

Holding his breath, Blair cut Jim's middle finger, squeezing it slightly until a pool of blood rested on the tip of the finger. Then he released Jim's hand and made a similar cut on the middle finger of his right hand.

Jim reached forward and took Blair's hand in his, their blood mingling. "Friends first," he promised.

"Friends first," Blair agreed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day, Michael Hamm returned from a successful day in Family Court to find two faxes on his desk.

'TO: Michael Hamm, Esq. – Hamm & Associates

FROM: Jeff Dannon – Berkshire Publishing

RE: Sandberg Lawsuit

Pursuant to our telephone conversation of yesterday, Berkshire Publishing will agree to issue a formal statement to the press that Mr. Sid Graham's actions were inappropriate. Berkshire Publishing sincerely regrets any problems this has caused for Mr. Sandberg and assures the public that these actions will not be repeated.

Pursuant to our telephone conversation of yesterday, Mr. Sid Graham will issue a formal statement to the press apologizing for his inappropriate actions regarding Mr. Sandberg. Mr. Graham will accept his reassignment to Berkshire Publishing's Division of Home Care Books.

Pursuant to our telephone conversation of yesterday, Berkshire Publishing is willing to offer Mr. Sandburg the sum of Five Hundred Thousand ($500,000.00) Dollars in reparation. This sum is contingent upon Mr. Sandberg's lawsuit being settled out of court and the conditions of the settlement remaining confidential except as noted above.'

Michael sighed. His client would probably go for the half-million dollars although he thought they could get more. Then he chuckled. 'Remember, you're supposed to be doing this out of the nobler aspects of the legal profession.'

He picked up the other fax as he sat down behind his desk.

'TO: Michael Hamm, Esq. – Hamm & Associates

FROM: Frederick Van Zant – Counsel to Rainier University

RE: Lawsuit Filed On Behalf of Blair Sandburg

The verbal conditions outlined in our meeting yesterday are acceptance to the Board of Regents. Please forward your official outline of this settlement as soon as possible.'

Michael chuckled. He reached for his phone and dialed his assistant. "Mrs. Taylor? Please fax Mr. Dannon at Berkshire Publishing and Mr. Van Zant at Rainier University and advise them I will be consulting with my client as soon as he returns, but that I don't foresee any problems in reaching a settlement based upon our previous conversations. Thank you."

Disconnecting, he thumbed through his Rolodex, then dialed another number. Waiting for the answering machine to finish telling him that no one was available to take the call, he tapped his finger on the desk. "Blair? This is Michael Hamm. Call me as soon as you get back. We've won."