Forever

by Jess Riley

After a horrific crime turns their world upside down, Blair and Jim must rely on the strength of their friendship and their growing relationship as Sentinel and Guide to find their way back home. Please see warnings at the top of the story

1. Chapter 1

FOREVER

By

Jess Riley

A friendship that survives adversity

Is a friendship that will last forever.

~oOo~

Warnings: This story contains crimes of a religious nature and imagery of a crucifixion. As part of the past story line, it has scenes which re-tell rape and torture. If you are uncomfortable reading about these subjects, please do not go any further.

Acknowledgements: Thank you to StarWatcher and Bobbie for not only your invaluable beta help, but for giving me your opinions and letting me bounce ideas off you. The input I receive from you both is of an enormous benefit.

Note: The character of Doctor Peter Mitchell once again returns in this story. To get an understanding of who he is and his relationship with both Jim and Blair, it is advisable to read, Once a Medic first. This story can be found at my page here.

Summary: After a horrific crime turns their world upside down, Blair and Jim must rely on the strength of their friendship and their growing relationship as Sentinel and Guide to find their way back home.

Ratings: This story is rated MA and while I've rated Part 1 as general, please be aware that part 2 does wander into the pre-slash realm.

Feedback: Always welcome

~oOo~

Fifteen years, nearly to the day. In the grand scale of life, fifteen is years is a mere blip on the calendar, but for one impressionable and lonely young boy, fifteen years ago, nearly to the day, was a date in history that gave rise to a dream.

The date would change the course of two lives – forever.

~oOo~

Fifteen years ago, nearly to the day: Matthew Taylor remembered it vividly. That day marked the beginning of a young boy's dream of friendship, camaraderie and a partnership that would last a lifetime.

His birthday had come and gone, without a great deal of fanfare, but young Matthew Taylor didn't lament the lack of celebration, because his birthday brought with it exactly what he wanted – an extended bedtime, which meant that the very first episode of Starsky and Hutch was now well within his grasp. Even the unfair trade-off of a few more chores before school became an easy deal the moment the 'striped tomato' flew around the corner and screeched to a halt, introducing him to the coolest cops ever to have graced the television screen. From that moment on, he was captivated. Every Thursday night, without fail, he would take up a prime position on the living room floor, watching intently as rubber burned, guns blazed, and the bad guys were brought to justice by the best team on the tube. And in the midst of all the action and excitement, the notion of friendship began to take root deep within his psyche. Hutch would have given his life to save Starsky, and Starsk' would have done the same for Hutch. They belonged together, side-by-side, always. They were partners – together forever.

Matthew's tenth birthday turned to his eleventh, twelfth, and eventually his thirteenth, but he still hadn't managed to master the social skills to elevate himself to the status of 'one of the cool kids'. Shy and somewhat awkward in his manner, Matt never quite seemed to fit in within the circle of his peers. Always on the outside, saying or doing the wrong thing, he eventually gave up; he retreated, escaping from reality into his imagination. He made for himself a world where he was the hero, the tough guy, the one that always saved the day. And right next to him, sharing the victory and the spoils of battle, was his partner, his backup – his best friend.

As Matt grew into a man, the perfect partner still eluded him, but the concept never strayed far from his mind. Bright and capable and not afraid of doing the grunt work to achieve his goals, he ascended the ranks of the police department, finally earning for himself the coveted promotion to detective. A temporary assignment to Cascade PD's Major Crime department was next, and Matthew grasped the opportunity with both hands. The cop of the year, the perfect partner, was within arm's length and all he had to do now was to reach out and take it.

Part 1

Junior Detective Matthew Taylor casually entered the break room, the promise of a hot cup of coffee a mere prop in a well-timed ploy to finally get a chance to meet the man who, if he played his cards right, would become his new partner. Confidently striding up behind Detective James Ellison, Taylor made an effort to keep his demeanour friendly and light and, most importantly, likable. "Hear the coffee's not too bad around this place."

Jim Ellison looked up briefly. "It passes," he replied, ripping open a packet of sugar, and dumping the contents into one of the cups. "Taylor isn't it?" he asked, not really all that interested in the answer.

"Yes sir," Taylor answered, buzzed that the senior detective had remembered his name.

"You can skip the formalities." Jim dumped another two packets of sugar into one the cups. "Call me Jim." He extended his hand toward the young detective.

A smile of satisfaction lit up the junior detective's face. First introductions were going better than he had expected. Making sure his handshake was firm, Taylor's mind sought out a reply that would keep the conversation flowing along. "That's a lot of sugar, Jim. Take it you've got a sweet tooth?"

"It's not for me. It's for my partner."

"Partner?" The smile faded and Taylor's elation took a sudden nosedive. He'd done his homework thoroughly and, to his knowledge, Ellison didn't have a partner. Sure, there was the grad student from the university that Ellison seemed friendly with but, as far as he knew, the guy was just an observer working on his dissertation. He wasn't a cop and certainly wouldn't qualify as acceptable partner material to a man like Ellison.

Ellison threw the stirrer in the trash. "Yeah, he's a bit low on the energy this morning. Thought I'd give him a kick-start. Of course, if he had gone to bed at a decent hour like I told him, then we wouldn't be having this little problem." The last part of Jim's sentence was muttered, not really directed at Taylor, just musings of slight annoyance. Hearing the wheels of the food cart clattering down the hall, Ellison picked up the coffee cups. "That's my call."

Not quite prepared for their brief liaison to end, Taylor followed as Ellison left the room. "Could do with some sustenance myself," he said, immediately regretting his choice of words.

"Right," Jim, drawled, finally giving the pristinely dressed detective a quick head-to-toe visual. "Maybe you should try the buttermilk doughnuts." If nothing else, they might give the impression that you're a cop. On the move again, Ellison called out, "Hey, Julie, you got anything that Sandburg would eat?"

Pulling the cart to a halt at the sound of the detective's voice, the pretty young woman fished around in the baskets. "How does chicken and lettuce on wholegrain sound?"

"Sounds like Sandburg," Jim muttered, his eyes settling on a doughnut that would be the perfect accompaniment to his coffee.

"And a freshly baked treat for yourself?" she tempted.

Jim shook his head, deciding to err on the side of caution – especially given the mood Blair was in this morning. He thrust his coffee toward Taylor. "Here, hold this," he said, fishing a twenty out of his wallet. "Better give me one of those apples as well."

"So, no doughnuts?"

"It's not worth the drama." Pocketing his change, Jim headed down the hallway, with Taylor only a few steps behind.

~oOo~

Ellison sighed as he entered the bullpen. Sandburg was exactly where he had left him – glued to a chair on the other side of his desk, with papers still strewn from one end to the other. "You know, Chief, I think it's about time I talked to Simon about getting you your own desk." Trying to find a clear spot to put the coffee down, he gave up and swept a pile of papers to the side.

"Hey, be careful, will ya?" Blair grabbed at the toppling pile. "It took me ages to sort through that. You're messing with my system, man."

"System!" Jim scoffed. "you call this a system? Sandburg, I've seen preschoolers with better organisational skills than yours." He placed Blair's coffee on the desk and shoved the sandwich under his nose. "Here, drink this, and eat this while you're at it." Taking his own coffee from Taylor, Ellison muttered a quick thanks, but paid the new detective no more attention than that.

Although getting the firm message that his presence was no longer required, Taylor held his ground. To have any hope of getting a permanent assignment to the squad, he would have to make himself known. While he had no real interest in getting to know the grad student, if he had to go through the backdoor to get to Ellison, then that's exactly what he'd do. "Hi, my name's Matt Taylor," he said, thrusting out his hand. "I've been temporarily assigned to Major Crime."

"Oh, hey," Blair replied, still juggling papers. "Nice to meet you." He tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "Um, sorry, I didn't quite catch the name."

Annoyed, but letting it pass, Taylor did his best to be accommodating. "Taylor, Matthew Taylor."

Blair quickly shook the detective's hand. "I'm Blair ... Blair Sandburg."

Looking at the mass of papers cluttering the desk, Taylor again kept his voice light. "I hear you're working on your dissertation. Looks like you sure have your work cut out for you."

"Huh!" Blair's attention was back on Jim and his incessant tidying. "Oh this, no, this isn't my diss. I'm just going through a bit of information on the Churchyard murders."

Although it was Taylor's first day on the job, he was prepared and was fully up to date with the details of the murder case. From the information in the files, two horrendously-mutilated bodies had been found on the grounds of two separate churches. Both the victims were women, and both had been raped. Four detectives, as well as Captain Banks, were working the case; word was that if progress wasn't made by the end of the week, the Feds were going to take control of the proceedings. Given the high profile of the case, he was at a bit of a loss to understand why a department with the reputation of Major Crime would be tolerating the involvement of a university student. But, if he could get a hand in, it could be his big chance to not only prove his worth, but also work alongside his future partner. With a quick glance at Ellison, and not failing to notice the frustration the detective seemed to be having with Sandburg, he made his move. "Looks like they've lumbered you with all the filing," he said.

Sandburg raised his eyebrows. "Ah, yeah something like that," he replied, only just managing to save the contents of a manila folder before it hit the floor.

"Alright, Chief, enough is enough." Ellison had just reached his tolerance limits. Sandburg had not only trashed his workspace, but the kid had made no attempt at all to touch the coffee or sandwich he had bought him. Reaching over, he grabbed the sandwich, peeled away the plastic wrap and dumped it on the pile of papers right in front of Blair. "Eat," he ordered.

"Okay, okay, keep your shorts on. I'm eating." Blair picked up the sandwich and took a bite. "You want some?" he asked.

"No, I don't want some." Jim pushed away Blair's hand. "Unlike you, I started the day off with a good, healthy breakfast."

"Yeah, pig fat and eggs drowned in oil is always the best way to kick-start the old metabolism. Breakfast of iron men." Blair took another bite and washed it down with a mouthful of coffee, nearly choking. "God Jim, how much sugar did you put in here?"

"Just enough to kick-start your metabolism."

"Or send me into sugar shock. What are trying to do? Turn me into a diabetic?"

"Oh, stop being so dramatic, Sandburg. It's good for you. Besides, a little sugar never hurt anyone. Take me for example." Ellison tapped Blair playfully on the forehead. "A glowing picture of health."

As the banter continued, Taylor found himself, once again, on the outside of the circle looking in. He was thankful for the interruption by Captain Banks.

"Okay people, listen up. We've got another body."

Ellison shot to his feet. "Where?"

"Outside of the church at Saint Hilda's Girls' School."

"Who found it?" Blair asked, praying that it wasn't one of the students.

"The gardener," Simon replied, also sending up a prayer of thanks that it wasn't one of the girls who had stumbled upon the corpse.

Jim grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair "What was the MO?"

"Same as the other two, only this time, the victim was male."

"And the injuries?" Blair asked.

"Among other things – had his buttocks sliced off."

"What!" Blair's reaction was mimicked by the other detectives listening in. "Oh man, that's gross."

"You're telling me," Banks muttered. He clapped his hands together. "All right, gentlemen, let's move. This department is copping a shit-load of flak at the moment. I want an arrest. Henri, go round up your partner and see if you can find Taggart. I want the three of you going through the files of the previous cases with a fine-toothed comb." Simon turned to Taylor. "You want to sit in? A fresh set of eyes might be just what we need."

Taylor was pumped. "Yes sir, of course." Although he might not be working directly with Ellison, he was now officially on the case and his goal was one step closer.

~oOo~

Jim held up the police tape, waiting for Blair to proceed before ducking under and making his way over to the coroner. "Have you established a cause of death yet?"

The coroner lifted away the sheet that covered the corpse. "I won't know for certain until I do the autopsy, but if I were to take a stab in the dark, my guess would be that he bled to death."

The ground beneath the body was soaked red, and the raw, butchered wounds were stained dark with congealing blood. "Has the rest of him been found?" Jim asked, referring to the two missing butt cheeks.

"No. What you see here is all we have."

"Are you able to tell if they were removed with any surgical precision?'

The coroner shook his head. "Judging by the ragged edges, I'd say it was most likely not."

Blair paled, as the medical examiner probed the wound. No matter how many crime scenes he attended and how many dead bodies he saw, it didn't seem to get any easier. Jim had told him once that he had to become detached, that he had to rein in his emotions, but he couldn't. He couldn't view the victim as just a corpse, a piece of evidence that needed to be dissected and studied in order to solve a crime. They were people – somebody's mother, father – somebody's child. Jim's hand lightly fingered his arm. "Chief, why don't you go wait in the truck?"

Blair studied Jim's expression, trying to gauge whether or not the detective was disappointed in him again for his weakness.

The gentle squeeze he felt on his shoulder gave him his answer.

~oOo~

"Jim?" Cornered by Simon the moment he stepped foot through the door, Ellison didn't even have to time to peel off his jacket. "We might have another lead. Taylor has linked all three victims to Saint Andrew's Hospital. Each one of them was admitted within the past two months."

Taking the file Ellison scanned the information. "How'd you make the connection, Taylor?"

Taylor's chest puffed out, ever so slightly. "Well, Jim, I was going over the coroner's report on each of the victims, and every one of them had evidence of recent wounds that had been surgically treated. I checked with the local hospitals and found that they had all been admitted to the same one, and treated by the same doctor."

Ellison slapped Taylor on the back. "Good work, detective." He tucked Taylor's notes under his arm. "Why don't I go and pay the good doctor a little visit?"

"Jim, take Taylor with you."

Ellison raised his eyebrows at the request. Banks knew that, apart from Sandburg, he worked better alone.

"He did the legwork," Simon stated by way of explanation. "It's only fair he should follow it up."

Not happy, but relenting, Jim made his way out the door, expecting Taylor to follow. "Two rules when you ride with me, Taylor. No eating in the truck, and if I tell you to stay put, you do exactly that."

"Yes sir. I mean, yes Jim. Absolutely – whatever you say."

Ellison turned around and gave Simon a wink. "A man that follows orders. I like that."

~oOo~

Jim knew that Blair was in the vicinity the minute he stepped off the elevator. Like the other strange anomalies that had been happening ever since the kid had gotten his hands on a folder of research from Peter Mitchell, he filed this one right alongside them in the 'I'll ask Sandburg when I have fifteen hours to spare to listen to the explanation' basket.

With quick steps, he moved toward the bullpen, thankful when Taylor veered off and headed into the break room. "Sandburg, why are you here?" he asked, moving to stand behind Blair. "I thought you were going to head home after class." When Blair didn't look up from the computer screen, or even attempt to answer his question, Jim moved closer and tapped him on the head. "Earth to Sandburg."

"Oh, hey, Jim." Blair glanced up briefly. "Where have you been?"

"Taylor and I have been down at Saint Andrew's checking on a lead. As it turns out, all of the victims were patients of a Doctor Hetherington."

Blair stopped typing. "You think he's the one?"

"He has an alibi for each of the murders."

Blair lowered his voice a notch. "Did you monitor his heartbeat? Was he lying?"

"No increase, and besides, he has a dozen witnesses confirming that he was in surgery."

"So the connection to the hospital is just a coincidence?'

"No such thing as a coincidence in a murder investigation, Chief." Jim leaned over Blair's shoulder and focused on the computer screen. "What are you working on?"

"I'm just following a hunch. The injuries of the last victim got me thinking."

"Jim," Taylor interrupted. "I thought you might need a cup of coffee. It's just how you like it. Two sugars."

"Um, thanks," Ellison replied, not trying to sound too grateful. The junior detective was still finding his feet, but he had no intention of giving the kid the impression that his niche would be found with him. When Taylor made no effort to evacuate from his personal space, he asked, "Is there something you wanted to ask me?"

"Actually, I was wondering what our next move should be? I was thinking that maybe we should start sifting through the hospital staff registry to see if any other personnel were on duty at the time all three victims were admitted."

"You know, that's an excellent idea, Taylor. Why don't you get started and give me a yell if you come up with anything."

"Well, I thought that maybe we should work on it together, you know, considering that we've both done the initial legwork." Taylor just managed to stop himself before the word 'partner' slipped out of his mouth.

"Actually, I'm just gonna check on what Sandburg's come up with."

"Oh." Taylor's shoulders slumped and he once again found himself being that awkward kid that nobody wanted around. "I guess I'll get started then. I'll let you know if I come up with anything."

"You do that. Keep me posted."

When Matt Taylor was out of earshot, Blair began. "Kick a puppy, why don't'cha."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Just think you may have found yourself a groupie."

"A groupie," Jim repeated, placing his hands on Blair's shoulders.

"Or it could go deeper than that," Blair teased, blissfully unaware of Jim's intentions. "It could be love." He let out a short, sharp laugh. "Actually I think it might be lust."

Ellison strategically placed his thumbs on the sensitive spot at the top of Blair's scapulae. "Love," he said, bearing down with just the right amount of pressure.

"Ow, that hurts!" Blair yelped, squirming as Jim's fingers dug into his flesh.

Jim gave one final squeeze before releasing the pressure. "Good, it was meant to."

"Geez, man." Blair attempted to rub the sting out of his ill-treated flesh. "Take a joke?"

"Jim!" Simon pulled open the door to his office with enough force that it rattled the glass in the window. "What's the status?"

"Doctor Hetherington has an alibi, sir. Taylor's going through the staff records at the moment to see if we can link anyone else to the dates of all three admissions."

"So you think we're heading in the right direction?"

Like an anxious puppy, desperate for some attention and approval, Taylor was back at Jim's side. "I'm ... that is, Jim and I are fairly confident that one of the staff is involved, sir. It will take me a while to sift through the records, but I plan to stay with it until I come up with something concrete."

Banks gritted a smile. "That's what I like to see, Taylor – enthusiasm."

"More like brown-nosing," Brown mumbled, discretely.

"Bingo!" Sandburg smacked Ellison's desk with his hand. "Shudra," he announced. "I knew I'd heard of it before."

Simon, Brown and even Joel, threw Blair a look that screamed,'what half baked theory has the kid come up with this time?'

"Guys, just hear me out," Blair said, well versed in the look. He pushed his chair back and rounded the desk. "Mr. Kohinoor was Indian. He was a Hindu. The murderer must have considered him a Shudra."

"Sandburg, if this is going somewhere, make it quick, because I've got not only the commissioner breathing down my back, but the Mayor's chewing a hole in my ass the size of New York City." Patting down his pockets in search of a cigar, the tone in Simon's voice portrayed a man under extreme pressure. "And what the hell is a Shudra, anyway?"

"It's part of the caste system that the Hindu religion is based upon."

"And that's important because?"

"It's a Hindu punishment, Simon. In the Hindu religion, whatever class you are born into is what you are meant to stay. You can't ascend to the next level until your next life. Mr. Kohinoor had just enrolled in night school. He was trying to improve his education so he could get a better job. Don't you see? The murderer must have classed him as a Shudra, and the punishment for a Shudra who tries to seek equality with those outside his class is to have his buttocks sliced away."

"So you're saying we should be looking for a Hindu?"

"No, not necessarily. I think the murderer is somebody who is versed in a variety of religious practices."

"And you base this on what?" Simon asked, now listening intently.

Blair went into automatic teacher mode. "Okay, the first victim, Emily Donahue. She was a Quaker, right?"

"Yeah, go on," Ellison encouraged.

"Well, back in the late sixteen hundreds, it was illegal for a Quaker to preach any other form of religion. Punishment for this could have been as mild as being outcast to another town, or as barbaric as having your ears docked, your hands branded and holes bored in your tongue. In the most serious cases, after being tortured, the person was hung."

Brown tapped the coroner's report with his finger. "Similar injuries to Emily Donahue."

"Emily was a teacher, Jim. She taught religious education."

Ellison got to his feet and started to pace. "Okay, so what have we got on victim number two?"

"This is where it starts to get spooky. Victim number two, according to the file, was a Wiccan. She practiced witchcraft."

"And her injuries were consistent with a form of punishment how?"

Blair snatched the file from Henri's desk. "Two broken legs, two broken arms and the final blow that killed her was a strike to her sternum." Blair threw the file back down. "Don't you see the connection? She wasn't just beaten to death. She was tied to a wheel and dealt out a punishment consistent with killing a witch."

Taylor had also been listening intently, but the theory seemed a little too farfetched in his mind to be taken seriously. "So where do the rapes tie in with all of this?" he asked.

"I have no idea," Blair shrugged. "It's not commonplace to use rape as a punishment for religious discrepancies."

"I think you might be onto something here, Chief." Ellison's thoughts were now racing. "I think we've been concentrating on the wrong profession. We need to start checking out databases for any priests, rabbis, any church-based workers who may have been convicted or suspected of sexual improprieties."

"All right, people. It looks like Sandburg might have just given us a new angle. H, Rafe, go back over the evidence and all the reports. Look for anything that may lay claim to Sandburg's theory. Jim, I want you and Sandburg to start checking those lists." Simon briefly glanced at the junior detective. "Taylor, take a look at the personnel list we got from the hospital –"

"Hang on," Ellison interrupted. "Doesn't Saint Andrew's have a priest on staff?"

Taylor quickly flipped through the information. "Yes. A Reverend Maxwell Boyd."

Jim looked at Simon, and Banks nodded. "Go," he ordered. "I want to know what Reverend Boyd was up to on the nights of the murders."

Taylor grabbed his jacket, preparing for the drive back to the hospital, but his enthusiasm was cut short. Jim was already halfway out the door, yelling at his partner. "Sandburg, you coming?"

Standing in the middle of the room like a kid who had just been left at the gas station restrooms while his parents continued their journey, Matt Taylor couldn't quite comprehended what had just gone wrong. A short time ago, he was the centre of attention, the smart one, the one who had made the connection to the hospital. So why now was he the left standing on the outside of the circle – again?

"Taylor!" Banks snapped. "Don't just stand there, man. Get to work on that list."

Snatching his backpack off the floor, Blair headed toward the exit. "Simon, you should add students of theology to that list. The murderer seems to have an intimate knowledge of religious punishments. It might pay to check to see if any courses have covered this curriculum."

"Good idea; now get going before your partner leaves you behind ... and Sandburg,"

"Yeah, Captain?"

"Good work, kid."

Blair's face lit up with a brilliant smile. "Thanks, man."

~oOo~