The next two weeks were a revelation for Jim Ellison and Major Crimes. For Jim it was like he'd been given a new lease of life. His senses were humming and he was closing case after case with remarkable ease. And it wasn't only the senses that were helping him do this; he was very pleasantly surprised at his guide's depth of knowledge and how anthropology was so useful in solving crimes. His mastery of the computer and all things relating to forms and paperwork was simply heavenly and it was comical to see Jim preen when Banks commented on how much better his reports were.
His colleagues were extremely grateful to the young guide, but for a completely different reasons. Jim had always been a good detective, perhaps too focused on putting away criminals and not on the victims, but a decent person nevertheless. However, as a social human being his character had left an awful lot to be desired. A loner, he'd never joined in the joking that sometimes took place in the bullpen. Poker nights had been arranged without his presence and he'd never discussed Jags' games with the others. So, it was to great pleasant amazement when one morning he'd walked in with a box of doughnuts for everyone and had joined in the talk about the basketball game that had been on the television the previous evening.
Things in the Clan had also settled down as well, as all the sentinels acknowledged Ellison's superiority and his position as Clan leader. In fact many of them were completely blown away at how strong his senses had become and how he managed to control them with his guide's help. This effectively also shut up those sentinels who'd been jockeying for Ellison's position, which made the majority of the Clan members breathe a sigh of relief. The last time the he'd been challenged a sentinel was left for dead and his guide was now locked up in a mental institution.
So, everything was sweetness and light for Cascade's Senior Sentinel Prime and Senior Guide Prime – or not. In all the euphoria no one really noticed how Blair was becoming quieter or how he was losing weight. You could hardly blame them, as nobody really knew the young man who was now in their midst. In fact, the young guide was sinking further and further into depression. Cut off from everyone and everything he knew he had no idea how to get himself out of the despair he was feeling and who to ask for help. Still resentful of how the detective had lied and treated him he quite frankly didn't trust him. Normally, a sentinel would be able to detect such a situation with their guide, but Ellison had never been formerly trained and he was blinded by how well he was feeling and, despite their shaky start, how well everything seemed to have worked out.
Blair looked up as his sentinel and Captain Banks walked out of the captain's office. Ellison was laughing at something the other man had said and looked totally relaxed. They approached Sandburg where he was typing up one of the detective's reports.
"Jim, I, and my superiors, thank the stars when you bonded with a grad student."
Neither of them noticed the small grimace that flitted across Blair's face.
"I didn't know that I knew so many multi-syllable words." The sentinel affectionately ruffled his guide's hair.
The two men laughed and Banks slapped Ellison on the back.
"Well, after working so hard you need to eat. Replenish your energy, you know? And I fancy one of Mr Billies' spicy quarter pounders with bacon. What d'you think?"
"Sounds good to me. What about you, Chief?"
"Oh, um. No, it's okay. I'll stay here. I'm not that hungry."
"You sure? You do too much work here. You need to relax."
"I really want to finish this report and then I'll get a sandwich."
Ellison's eyes narrowed as Blair's heartbeat increased and he opened his mouth to ask him what was going on.
"Come on, Jim. He obviously doesn't want to be seen with two old men like us. I'm sure he's got better plans. Let's go. That burger's calling my name." Simon pulled on his coat and walked out of the bullpen.
Blair ducked his head and stared at the papers on his desk almost holding his breath.
"All right, Chief," Ellison said eventually and pulled his jacket off the back of his chair. "I shouldn't be long. And remember, if you leave the building don't go alone. That woman's still out there. Take an officer with you or a member of the Clan."
Having met the Clan sentinels that were police officers, Blair thought it highly unlikely that he would have anything to do with them. Basically, they were Ellison clones: big, buff and bossy. And the bonded ones were worst. They moved around the PD with smug looks whenever they were with their guides as if to say, 'Look at us? We're bonded and vastly superior to you.' He also hated how they treated their guides as if they were mindless and fragile. At least Jim didn't do that, he thought. Well, not all the time.
"Blair?"
"Yeah, okay. No sweat."
The guide continued typing until he was certain that the two men had left the building. His hands then stilled and he stared unseeing at the computer screen. Digging into his trouser pocket he pulled out his wallet and opened it. Twenty dollars hadn't miraculously appeared in its empty slots. It was still as depressingly empty as it had been that morning. He stared at the single credit card it held. There was no point in trying to use that, as his bank account was as empty as his wallet. God, he was hungry, but he couldn't, wouldn't ask Ellison for money. He wasn't gong to be a kept man!
He'd just have to go and get another cup of coffee from the break room; at least that was free. And if he was lucky maybe someone had brought in some cakes or doughnuts. He had to make a pit stop first, though. Three cups of coffee now needed to make their way out of his body! Taking a deep breath he shakily stood up and made his way into the men's toilet. He sighed in relief when he found it empty and made his way to the line of washbasins where he splashed cold water on to his face. Looking up he stared into the eyes of the person staring back at him in the mirror.
Who was he? Oh, he had the same eyes and same curly hair as that eager grad student who'd gone to work at the Centre thinking he was going to do great things. How the mighty were fallen,' he laughed to himself. How did he get to this place? What the hell was he doing here? He'd never wanted to bond and here he was, guide to the most senior sentinel in Cascade. Not to say that Ellison was a bad man, or that he treated Sandburg badly. In fact, he was solicitous of his guide. He'd done up the spare room asking him his opinion as to what colours and furnishings he'd wanted. He encouraged him to leave his room and they spent the evenings watching television or DVDs. And not once had he forced him to bond always asking him if he wanted to.
Sandburg was still handicapped with his broken arm, but Jim never complained about helping him button up his shirts or tie up his shoelaces. He'd asked about the foods he liked and what sort of activities he liked doing. He was obviously trying to make up for the way they'd bonded and the lies he'd told him regarding his mother, but… Blair took in a shaky breath. But Jim, caught up in the newly-bonded feeling that painted life in a golden glow, didn't KNOW his guide; didn't know the person that had been Blair Sandburg, Anthropology Graduate Student, Teaching Assistant and ABD. Didn't know that his dreams of being a world-famous anthropologist were now lying shattered at his feet, that he missed teaching with a fierce ache or…
With a groan he curled over the washbasin and rested his flushed face on the cool porcelain. This wasn't him. He mentally shook himself. Where was the person who'd started university at sixteen as an emancipated minor? The person who'd stood up to loggers with his friends, refused to bow down to Ventriss and his money when the student had been caught cheating…? The confident student on the cusp of getting his Ph.D., the TA who regularly taught to packed auditoriums, who'd gone on expeditions to war torn countries and faced down marauding natives. The outgoing man who had a large circle of friends and who dated on a regular basis…
Having minored in Psychology for his Masters he recognised that he was depressed, but what the hell could he do about it? He had no money and was being sued by the university for even more of what he didn't have. He had no status other than that of Guide to a sentinel. For the first time in his life he felt adrift and without purpose and, oh God, he missed his mother. His breathing quickened…
"Blair?"
He jumped almost smashing his nose. Straightening up he rubbed at his face and turned to face the intruder. Joel Taggart was standing just inside the door with a concerned look on his face.
"Blair," he repeated, "what's wrong?"
"Uh, nothing. I'm fine."
"Sorry to contradict you, but you don't look it." His tone was solicitous and he took a small step towards the obviously distraught man.
"It's nothing." Blair shifted uncomfortably and pushed away from the washbasin. "I need to go and finish Jim's reports. You know how cranky he gets if they're not done in time." He gave a little laugh that was patently forced and went to go past the former bomb squad captain.
"And where is Jim?"
"Went to lunch with Captain Banks."
"And you didn't want to go?"
"I'm not really that hungry." He tied to edge past the taller man when his stomach betrayed him and gave a massive rumble. A large hand shot out and gently gripped his upper arm. He stilled, his head averted and his eyes looking down to the floor.
"Blair?" If anything, Joel's voice was even softer. "Talk to me. Please. Let me help."
"No one can help," he mumbled.
"You don't know that."
Sandburg's emotions were all over the place. God, he was NOT going to cry! But Joel had always been solicitous of the young guide and had tried to make him feel welcome in a place where, due to their work, the people were often seen to be hard and uncaring. A sob was torn out of his body against his will. Gentle arms drew him into a solid chest and a hand cradled the back of his head. His emphatic abilities allowed him to feel the genuine, non-judgemental concern flowing out from the man holding him. It was too much. The dam broke and he cried out his despair and disappointments into the other man's chest and all the while Taggart held and comforted him.