A companion story to Murder 101 (the first episode after S2P2), an episode that desperately needed an infusion of smarm.

Gen. Rated PG for language and violence.

Becky's Sentinel Site was invaluable, as was tehomet's Sentinel page. A few lines of dialog are directly from Murder 101, written by Ron Taylor.

Keeping Up With Jim

by Helen W.

During Murder 101...

It had been a hell of a day. Week. Month. Whatever. But Blair could handle it. Being fired from Rainier - over his attendance record! - thanks to that murdering rapist, Brad Ventriss, was just one more shitty thing to deal with in a sea of shitty things.

Somehow, being angry - keeping his rage white-hot - at Brad Ventriss made it easier to ignore how screwed up everything had been since he'd gotten messed up with Alex Barnes. It would see him through today, through to getting Brad and Suzanne locked up. And after that - who the hell knew?

Which made Simon's "If I'm still here next week, I'll see if we can invent a job" a little hard to take, after it had had a chance to sink in a little. Blair'd gotten so used to everyone being an asshole that Simon's bit of kindness made his eyes sting, his throat hurt.

Not helpful - not when they had more to do today. But he had to let Simon know he appreciated it.

While Jim and Joel put the finishing touches on what they were going to present to Brad's and Suzanne's fathers, he ducked into Simon's office.

"Captain?" he said softly. "I just wanted to say thanks..."

Simon waved him quiet. "The offer's real, Blair. Sorry for having to threaten to pull your ride-along earlier. Maybe it would be easier for all of us if you were on the payroll, didn't have all these conflicting interests."

"You want to control me?"

"Well, I wouldn't be paying you to play tiddlywinks all day." He sighed. "What I'm saying is, this job is hell sometimes, and you seem to get all the downside and none of the up."

"I wouldn't do this for money."

"Yeah, you do it to be one of the good guys, and because Jim needs you."

Which was completely true, but still Blair couldn't suppress a scoff (didn't, in fact, try very hard).

"Cut Jim some slack, Sandburg. I'm giving him all the support I can right now, partnering him with Taggart, but it's not helping much. You've got to do your share too."

"JIM needs support?"

"I thought you were the smart one." He paused, looking past Blair to the activity in the bullpen. "Looks like they're ready. Let's go do this. Jim and I'll do the talking, I want you to stay with the cars."

While Jim and Simon made nice with the dads, Blair and Joel tried to lip-read, which took too much concentration for chitchat. So the vague idea Blair'd had of asking Joel what he thought of Cascade's Most Annoying Detective didn't come to anything.

Not five minutes later, Simon was telling him, "Keep with him, Sandburg," and he was in a helicopter chase and learning more than he ever wanted to know about unarmed helicopter combat.

Latching onto Jim's jacket while they struggled to stay in the air seemed natural; Jim's "Get a grip - on something other than me!" reminded Blair that, whatever Simon thought, Jim was... maybe simply losing interest in their friendship, their partnership.

Not that this was the best time to be reevaluating his life...

Jim jumping onto the speedboat was par for the course, really. Blair jumping into the lake after Brad Ventriss was something else entirely.

The water was cold, the coldest water he'd ever been in. But Brad was not getting away. It took only five strokes to reach Brad, and then Blair had him from behind. Finally! "If you noticed, I'm not in class today! I hope you don't file a grievance!" he shouted over the noise of the chopper; it felt really good.

Brad didn't put up any sort of struggle, instead looking around wildly. "Where's the ladder? Where's the ladder?"

"What ladder?"

"To pull us out of the water."

"There's no ladder," said Blair.

"Boat! Where's the boat?"

"I don't know," said Blair, only then realizing that Brad was shivering hard.

Which was when Blair remembered basic survival training: Do anything you can to stay out of water in the off-season. Daytime highs near 70 and lows around 50 meant the lake was probably 60 degrees at most. THAT was why it hurt like hell and his fingers were getting numb.

He pulled Brad closer. "It's okay, kid, they'll come back for us. Let's just conserve body heat."

"Not if they're still fighting," said Brad. "Not if they've knocked each other out, or overboard. Let's swim f-for sh-shore."

"No, man, if we can stay afloat here, that's best," said Blair. "Exertion's a good way to lose bodyheat fast."

"Then that rock," said Brad, and Blair turned and saw a large boulder, maybe 30 yards away. Too steep to climb, probably, but maybe the lake shallowed there?

"Ok-kay," he said, now shivering too. "Let's..."

He let go of Brad's body and colder water hit his chest. Brad was right, they had to get out of the water, any way they could. He tried to grab Brad's jacket, but his fingers felt as useful as stubs. Well, it wasn't like the kid was going anywhere...

And neither was he, with his legs so slow and heavy. Damn work boots, they added weight, and there was no way he was going to be able to get them off.

The helicopter, whirling uselessly overhead, made it impossible to hear whether the boat was anywhere nearby, and it chopped up the water enough that he couldn't see squat. Finally he heard another engine behind them. "Hey!" he yelled as he turned, and a line of wake hit him square in the face. Then something hard landed on him...

An old-style circular lifesaver! Attached to a line going up. Blair hooked his right arm through, locked his hands, and coughed. Not five feet away, the boat bobbed; Jim was pulling Brad aboard.

"Hang tight, Sandburg," Jim called, and Blair didn't bother to nod. Jim would haul him up in a minute, he could wait a minute.

Or maybe not. "Jim, I c-can't f-feel my feet!" Only a slight exaggeration.

"Just give me a sec," Jim answered.

Blair waited a short eternity, then called, "Jim, c-come on, man..." Whatever he'd done, he was sorry! God, just get him out, please! "Pl-pl-pl..."

"Okay, all set, hold tight!" Jim called as he started to pull on Blair's rope, and Blair tried, but as his upper torso left the water his hands slipped and he splashed back into the lake.

"Damn," yelled Jim, then "Try again," and the ring reappeared. Blair pushed his head and arm through and then grasped his forearms; this time, his grip held. He barely felt the side of the boat as he bounced against it; didn't care, as long as he didn't fall back into the water. Then Jim had him and was guiding him down onto a tiny lower deck. He shrugged out of the lifesaver and rolled against the edge of the boat, facing upward.

Ah, that's what had taken so long. Brad, sitting on the bench the ran the width of the rear of the boat, was stripped down to his briefs and had been handcuffed to a somewhat-bruised-looking guy who must be the driver. Captain. Whatever.

Suzanne was wrapped around Brad on his other side. Lucky guy.

Jim entered Blair's field of view. "You okay there, chief?"

"No."

Jim patted Blair's knee. "Good man. Get everything off, then put on my jacket; I've got to make some calls, figure out where we're going."

Blair quickly gave up on his boots, opting instead to just take off his sopping flannel shirt and t-shirt. By the time he was huddling under Jim's blessedly dry jacket, Jim was at the wheel, going Blair-couldn't-care-less-where.

There was nowhere to look but at Brad's and his friends' knees, so Blair closed his eyes instead.

Blair was sure he didn't fall asleep - how on earth could he have fallen asleep, feeling as shitty as he did? - but suddenly they were stopped and bouncing against something - a dock? - and Jim was talking loudly to someone. Then a cop with a pen light was shining it in his eyes. Not a paramedic? Blair pushed himself up and batted the light away. "I don't have a concussion, I'm mildly hypothermic, you numbnut," he said.

Jim stepped down next to him, but Blair didn't bother to meet his eye. "Just give him whatever blankets you have, then take these three away," Jim told someone Blair couldn't see. "Remember, the kids are wanted for murder. I don't know a thing about this guy" (presumably gesturing at the man on Brad's left) "but I'm sure he can be traced to their parents."

Two blankets appeared; they smelled of police car and gas, but they were wonderful, though Blair still felt like he'd never be warm and dry again.

There was much trampling then, but it didn't take long for the three suspects to docilely leave the boat. Blair heard several cars peel off; and that was that.

Jim was kneeling down next to him now. "Numbnut???"

Whatever. "You t-trust those guys with Brad?"

"The local PD? Sure, I know the sergeant, they're a good department. They can hold our friends for a few hours." Jim paused. "Simon's on his way. You want to wait here, or take another ride in the chopper? The pilot says he can land here."

"No... no more flying," said Blair.

"Okay, good choice. The sun's about to set and I'd rather he just get back to base before he's flying blind." He made yet another quick call, then returned his attention to Blair. "Now, let's see what we can do."

Jim made short work of his laces, freeing Blair's feet of the hated boots and socks, then got his pants and ("You feeling modest, Sandburg?" "Nope.") briefs off.

"Now let's get you out of this puddle," said Jim.

Puddle? Yeah, he was sitting in water. He hadn't even noticed.

"Let's get you up here," said Jim, grabbing his arms and hoisting him up and then setting him on the bench recently vacated by Brad and the others.

More comfortable, yes, but there was no real back support; how could this be warmer? But then Jim was behind him and had pulled him close and tucked the blankets everywhere their bodies didn't touch. Blair turned his face into Jim's shirt and let out two or three half-sobs, half-groans before he remembered that things were weird between them now and he couldn't - trust Jim like maybe he'd been able to before.

But Jim tightened his grip, and Blair felt the side of Jim's face press down against his grossly-wet hair.

"It's okay, chief," said Jim, "you'll be warm in a minute." Blair doubted that, but Jim continued. "I'm sorry. I should have pulled you out first, let that piece of shit fend for himself."

Jim shifted a little, then continued, "Why'd this get so hard? I used to be able to trust my instincts, but since Alex they're shot to hell. So I guess I'm doing the opposite of what they're telling me, and that's not working either."

Blair didn't know what to say, so he found one of Jim's hands and squeezed. "Don't worry," he said, so softly he surprised himself. "I can keep up with you."

"Yeah, I think you can," said Jim.

* * * THE END * * *

All feedback appreciated, here or to helenw at murphnet dot org.