Dawn Of A New Day
By: Victoria May
The courtyard was crowded. It looked as if all of Cascade had shown for this year's declaration of Cop of the Year. The Cascade Optimist's Club had worked hard planning this year's event. White lights lay draped over bushes and climbed the trunks of trees, exploding in a frenzy of white twinkling stars in the branches. Cascade's finest were littered across the wide yard, clutching small plates of finger sandwiches, veggies and dip, and a selection of desserts. Champaign flowed freely and in the far corner of the gaily lit yard, a small but cheerful group raised their glasses for a toast.
"I think we can all guess who this year's recipient of Cop of the Year is going to be, but before he, or she-ehem, gets that honor, I'd like to commend all of you for a job well done. You've all worked hard and have nothing to be ashamed of. Only one officer can receive this particular honor, but, I want you all to know-you're the best damn team I've ever had the honor of working with." To a chorus of 'here-here!' and 'cheers!' Captain Simon Banks lifted his glass and saluted the men and women of Major Crimes.
After the backslapping and hugging had died down, Simon cleared his throat and raised his glass again. "As I said, we can guess who this year's recipient is going to be-again, but there's someone else here who I think also deserves a little recognition for his contributions to the department, and more importantly his contributions to our Cop of the Year." He paused and looked around before catching sight of the resident observer. "Sandburg, get over here and quit hiding behind Taggert."
Simon waited while Blair Sandburg, BA, MA and hopefully soon to be Ph.D. was pushed, pulled and dragged from his hiding place behind the explosive's expert. As soon as the smaller man was near enough, a long, dark arm darted out and snatched at his coat sleeve, pulling the observer closer. Holding up his hands to silence his troop, he began again.
"I just wanted to-publicly-thank Blair Sandburg for all he's done for Major Crimes. You're not a cop," he stopped and laughed at the look on Blair's face. "Didn't expect that one, did you?" he teased before continuing. "You're not a cop, but I have a feeling that if we could just get you into the academy, you'd be a first rate officer and I wouldn't be surprised to see you up there on that stage receiving this award. But, since you aren't a cop, you'll just have to settle for this." Simon turned and extended his hand, closing his fingers around a lumpy, cloth covered object. Pulling it in front of him, he slid the cloth off and held up a small plaque.
"Blair Sandburg, I'm pleased to present you with this award, Observer of the Year." With that, he handed the plaque to the smaller man and reached to shake his hand.
Blair looked at the small award in awe and surprise. He blinked back the tears he could feel pooling in his eyes and looked at the small crowd that was gathered around. "I don't know what to say," he began.
"How 'bout 'thank you'?" a voice called out.
Blair looked up and grinned. "Thank you. I can't believe you did this, but thank you."
When Simon saw that his observer wasn't going to say anything else, he sighed and rolled his eyes. Raising his glass, he toasted, "To the man of many words, Blair Sandburg, for going above and beyond the call of duty for an,"
"Observer!" the crowd called out, whistling and cheering.
Blair found himself in the midst of excited cops, all wanting to shake his hand and slap him on the back. When the crowd finally cleared, he looked up to find his friend and roommate, Detective Jim Ellison at his side.
"Congratulations Sandburg," the detective said, pulling the younger man into a quick hug. He released Blair and snagged the small award out of his friend's hand. "Nice," he complimented, using his shirt cuff to polish the glass overlay.
"Was this your idea?" Blair probed the older man before reaching for the plaque.
"Nope. This was purely Simon's idea." At Blair's incredulous look, he added, "Well, a few of us may have bent his ear just a little, but he was all for it. Said it was about time you got some recognition."
"Uhuh," Blair said, doubtful. Before he could continue, the speakers held high in the trees, crackled to life.
"Welcome to this year's Officer of the Year banquet and award ceremony." The voice of Cascade's mayor floated over the yard. "It's been a long year. Many good things have happened this past year, but unfortunately there's also been lots of crime. I'd like to thank all of Cascade's finest for doing their best to keep us safe. Let's have a round of applause for the men and women of the Cascade Police Department!"
A loud cheer arose, followed by the thunder of applause. When the noise died down, the mayor continued. "While all of you have done your very best to keep the streets safe for our loved ones, putting murderers, rapists, drug dealers, and thieves safely away behind bars, there is always one officer who stands out above the rest. Going that extra step, risking life and limb to protect us all. This officer is not a glory hound, but a man dedicated to doing his very best. This man has taken that extra step in the past and has done it again. But, before I introduce this individual, his father has a few words he'd like to say."
The mayor stepped back from the podium and gestured for another man to step up. The man was tall, with graying blond hair and mustache. The man, William Ellison, began to speak.
"I didn't raise my son with any hopes that he would become an officer of the law. I should have had some clue that this was where his life was headed when he graduated college and joined the military. Instead, I'd always held out for my son to see the light and join me in my business pursuits. To say the least, I was disappointed. I wanted to be able to brag to my friends about my son's business conquests. I wanted to say, this is my son, I am so proud.
"I wasted so many years that way. Waiting for my son, James Ellison to see things, to do things my way. Today, as I stand here, I want to say that I am glad that I was wrong. I am glad that my son never saw fit to bend to an old man's whims. Instead, he followed his own heart, and in the end, that heart led him here. My son is a protector, I know that now. And today, I want to say, I am proud of my son, Detective James Ellison, Major Crimes division and this years Officer of the Year. Congratulations Jimmy."
Jim blinked as flash bulbs exploded in his eyes and hands pounded his back. He looked around in a daze before his eyes settled on his partner and guide. Seeing his friend's proud smile was all it took to wake him from his stupor and he began to make his way towards the podium and his father. He looked ahead, at his smiling father and could feel the grin spreading across his own face. His father was proud of him, and damn did it feel good.
Jim had almost reached the podium when the crackle of gunfire filled the night. Screams echoed through the courtyard and bodies jerked in a dance of death before collapsing into piles of tangled limbs. Like watching in a dream, Jim could see his father convulse as bullets pieced his chest, his arm, his head. He fell, lifeless to the ground.
"Noooo!" the scream ripped out of him and he ran, stumbling and slamming into anyone who got in his way, until he was kneeling on the ground at his father's side, cradling the bloody head in his arms.
"Dad, dad, it's okay, helps coming-don't you die! Not yet! Not when we're just finding each other again. Please, dad, don't leave me-don't leave me alone!" the cry echoed over the courtyard.
The piercing cry of sirens answered, and soon the yard was bathed in red and blue flashing lights. Gentle hands attempted to coax the fallen man away, out of the safety of the sentinel's arms.
"No! Leave him be. Don't touch him!" the grieving man cried, wrapping his long arms tighter around the still form of his father. He sat, rocking the man who had only just told him how much he cared, how much he regretted. How much he loved his son. It was too soon for him to go. They'd only just begun to repair their relationship. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right and Jim Ellison wasn't ready to let go.
"It isn't fair!" The sorrowful sound was almost drowned by the sobs that shook the large man's body. "It isn't fair."
"I know Jim, I know." Large arms were suddenly around him, holding him and supporting him. "I know Jim. It isn't fair. I know."
"Simon," the mourning man said, never lifting his head from atop his father's.
"Yeah Jim, it's me. You have to let him go now Jim. Come on. Let him go." Simon's dark hands reached down and settled over Jim's.
"He's dead."
"Yeah Jim. I'm sorry. I am so damn sorry." He patted Jim's tightly clenched hand. "Come on Jim. You have to let him go. Someone else needs you now."
Jim shook his head. "No. They're all gone. No one needs me any more. I'm alone now. He left me alone."
"No Jim. You're not alone. Your partner needs you now. Come on." Simon stood and tugged on Jim's jacket. Reluctantly, Jim lay his father's lifeless body onto the ground and stood.
"I have to go to his house. I have to tell Sally." Jim began to walk away from his captain, towards the parking lot.
The taller man caught up with him easily. "Jim. You need to go to Cascade General. I'll have someone drive over to your house-Rafe, or Conner. But I need you to come with me. Blair needs you right now."
"I have to call Stevie. He doesn't know. He couldn't come-he wasn't here." Jim continued to walk, oblivious to what the other man was saying.
"Jim! Listen to me damnit!" Simon wrapped his fingers around Jim's sleeve and held on. The other man helpless in his grasp. "Blair was hit. He's at Cascade General. He needs you right now. Right now Jim. There's nothing else you can do for your father. But you can be there for Blair."
The pale face seemed to glow in the moonlight. Slowly, Jim shook his head. "Blair doesn't need me. That's not how it works. He doesn't need me-I need him. That's how it's always been. Blair's strong. A fighter. He'll pull through. He always does, Simon."
"No Jim! Not this time. He-it's bad Jim. He may not make it. He does need you. Damnit Jim. Don't do this to him! Not again. Not on my watch. If I have to throw you over my shoulder to get you there, you're going. Are you hearing me?" Simon demanded of the stoic man in front of him.
Jim continued to stare straight ahead. "I hear you," he whispered.
"Thank god," Simon breathed. Steering the grief stricken man to his car, Simon sent up a quiet prayer that Blair Sandburg still be alive when they got there.
The ER was full, most of the bodies in the waiting room, Cascade PD officers and their families. Simon found a bare spot of wall and pushed his lead detective against it. "Wait here," he gruffly instructed. Pushing his way through the throng of people, he grabbed hold of a passing nurse.
"I need to find out about one of my people," he commanded, flipping open his ID and flashing it at the young, African-American nurse.
"I'm sorry, officer," the nurse began before a large brown hand was held in the air in front of her, silencing her further.
"Please," he said, more softly. "Blair Sandburg. He was at the police banquet-he was shot. I just-I just need to know if he's alive. Can you tell me that much?" he pleaded.
The nurse closed her mouth and patted the captain's arm. "I'll be right back," she said before turning and pushing her way to an exam room.
Simon turned and studied the walls until he found Jim, right where he'd left him minutes before. The detective was leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"Officer?" a gentle voice asked and Simon turned to see that the nurse was back.
"I don't know much, but Mr. Sandburg is alive. They've taken him up to surgery. Fourth floor. Just take the red elevator to four then follow the purple lines. They'll lead you to a nurse's station. Just ask about him there-they'll know more." The nurse turned away, and was immediately engulfed by the swarm of worried bodies.
Simon pushed his way back to Jim's side and pushed the other man towards the elevator. "He's in surgery. They'll know more there." The ride was silent and Simon studied his quiet friend.
"How are you doing Jim?" he asked.
"Fine. I'm fine. I didn't get shot. I'm fine," the detective answered, his voice empty and lifeless.
"I know that Jim. I meant, how are you in here?" Simon asked, patting Jim's chest.
"I can't let myself feel anything right now Simon. It's too much. If I let myself think that Sandburg might not make it-I just can't," he finished lamely.
"He's not going to die Jim. You have to believe that." A small bell sounded and the elevator doors slid open. Simon exited and waited for Jim before following the purple taped line around the corner and through a large set of automatic doors. He approached the desk.
"I need information about a patient-Blair Sandburg."
The nurse behind the desk looked up. "Are you family?" she asked, disbelieving.
Pulling out his badge again, Simon handed it to her. "He's one of my men. Got shot at the PD banquet. I was told downstairs that he was brought up for surgery." Simon accepted his badge back and tucked into his jacket.
"Was his mother called?" Jim interrupted.
"Let me check, sir." The nurse flipped open a file and nodded. "Yes sir, a Naomi Sandburg was called and is driving in now."
"Good, that's good," Jim mumbled.
"His condition?" Simon prompted.
"I should really wait for his mother to arrive," the nurse hedged.
"Please," Simon asked, hopeful that this nurse would be as understanding as the one in the ER.
"I suppose I can tell you. It's going to be included in the police report anyway. Mr. Sandburg was shot in the chest. The bullet nicked the pericardium."
"Oh god, his heart." The strangled cry came from Jim.
After flicking a concerned glance at Jim, the nurse continued. "They're repairing that now. I really can't tell you any more," the nurse said, looking from Simon to Jim and back to Simon.
Simon wrapped his arm around Jim's shoulders and turned to lead him over to the chairs. "Thank you," he said, turning his head back to the nurse.
The men sat and waited and watched as the clock ticked past minutes and then hours. Simon heard the whoosh of the doors sliding open, and winced as a familiar voice called out, "Jim!"
Jim sprang from his chair and raced across the floor and into the arms of Naomi Sandburg. "I'm so sorry Naomi," his muffled voice said into her hair where his face was pressed.
The redhead stiffened and her bloodshot eyes grew wide. "Is he . . .?"
"No!" Simon answered, jumping out of his chair. "He's in surgery."
Jim released Naomi and stood back. "Sorry. I didn't mean for you to think-to think that," his voice faltered.
"Oh Jim. Are you okay?" As her son often did, Naomi put aside her own pain and wrapped her arm around Jim's waist.
"Yeah. It's just been one hell of day," Jim said as he rubbed at his eyes. "My-my dad. He was at the banquet. Came to surprise me. Said he was proud. He's never said that before," Jim choked as tears began to stream down his face.
Naomi turned shocked eyes to Simon. Receiving a silent nod, Naomi could feel her own eyes fill and overflow. Pulling Jim back into her embrace, she held him until he began to pull away.
"Sorry," he apologized.
"No-you cry Jim. If you need to cry, then you cry. Are you hearing me?" she asked anxiously.
"Yeah Naomi, I hear you," Jim agreed, smiling slightly.
The trio was interrupted by the approach of a tall Asian man in green scrubs. "Mrs. Sandburg?" the doctor asked, looking at Naomi.
"Ms. Sandburg," Naomi corrected, then shook her head. "My son, how is he?"
The doctor gestured to the chairs. "Let's sit." When the small group was seated he began. "I'm doctor Kao, I performed the surgery on Mr. Sandburg . . ."
"Blair, please," Naomi requested.
"Okay," the surgeon said gently. "Blair was shot in the chest and the bullet lodged in the pericardium-the sack surrounding the heart. It stopped there. If it hadn't, Blair wouldn't have made it. As it was, it was touch and go. We lost him on the table twice, but were able to get him back quickly. There should be no long term effects from that. You should know that Blair was suffering from a pericardial effusion when he was brought in to the ER and a pericardial centesis was performed down there."
"What does that mean, exactly?" Simon interrupted.
"There was blood building in the pericardium, putting pressure on Blair's heart. His heart stopped beating in the ER and they had to drain the excess fluid from the sack to reduce the pressure. He was stabilized and brought up to surgery. We had to open his chest to remove the bullet and repair the damage done to the pericardium. We're moving him to recovery right now. His EKG is good-his heart is strong. It's going to take him a while to get back on his feet, but he's going to be just fine. Once he's awake, he'll be moved to the CCU." At the fearful look in the surrounding faces, he hurried to explain. "It's just a precaution until we know for sure there are going to be no complications. Once we're satisfied, he'll be moved to the ICU and then later a regular room. Once that happens, we'll move quickly getting him on his feet and moving around."
Turning to face Naomi, he said seriously, "Your son was very lucky. He's going to need all the support he can get during his recovery. It's not going to be easy for him." Standing, he looked down at the redhead. "You can come and see him for a minute. After that, you'll have to wait until he's settled in the CCU."
Naomi stood to follow but quickly turned to Jim and embraced him. "He's alive. He's going to be fine," she said, new tears in her eyes.
Jim nodded and collapsed wearily into his chair. Simon patted the other man's knee.
"You want to call Steven now?" Simon asked.
Leaning forward, Jim dropped his head into his hands. "What do I say?" he asked weakly. "How do I tell my brother that his dad is gone? They never had the chance to say goodbye. How do I tell him that I finally got to hear how much I am loved and he didn't?"
"Maybe he did Jim. Maybe your father took the opportunity to let Steven know how much he meant to him. Don't assume he doesn't know. And if he doesn't, than you tell him Jim. You tell him how proud of both his sons he was. You tell him that." Simon stood and laid his hand on Jim's shoulder. "I'm going to take a walk-give you some privacy."
Jim watched his friend walk away and finally pulled out his cell phone. After dialing in a string of numbers, he waited for the familiar voice.
'Hello?' Steven's voice was strong, awake. Probably walked out of a meeting or lunch to take the call. Jim's brother, unlike Jim, followed the senior Ellison onto the path of business transactions and financial exchanges. Yet like his older brother, Steven did it far away from their father. He was now in Tokyo conducting business.
"Stevie?" Jim's voice cracked, as he struggled not to cry.
'Jim? What's wrong? What happened? Did something happen to Blair?' the younger man panicked, hearing the grief in his brother's voice.
"No-well, yes. But that's not why I'm calling. Stevie, dad was shot tonight. He's dead." There, he'd said it.
'No. Tell me this is a joke Jimmy. Tell me it isn't true!' the voice pleaded.
"I'm so sorry Stevie. Can you come home?" Jim asked, the tears flowing freely now.
'How Jim? How? What happened?'
"Please, Stevie. I'll explain when you get here. I can't go over it on the phone," Jim pleaded, knowing his brother had a right to know, but not able to repeat it so soon.
'This had something to do with your work didn't it? You said something happened to Blair. Was he shot too? Was dad involved in a case? Oh god, Jim. Was dad killed because of your police work?' There it was. That was what Jim had been fighting-denying.
"Yes," Jim's voice was strangled. "Yes!" he repeated, more loudly. "Please, Stevie. Come home and let me explain-please," his voice faltered. Jim's eyes were clenched tightly and he did not see the large figure approach. He did feel as the phone was taken from his hand.
"Steven? This is Captain Banks. I'm sorry about your father. He and Jim were in attendance at the annual Officer of the Year awards banquet. Someone opened fire into the courtyard where the banquet was being held. Your father was hit and killed. Jim's partner, Blair was also hit. He's alive, barely. Jim doesn't need your blame-he has enough guilt. But he does need you here." Simon was silent as he listened. "Okay. Call when you're close to Cascade and I'll send a squad car to pick you up at the airport." He paused again. "Uhuh. He's holding his own right now. I'll tell him. Goodbye."
Simon folded the phone and handed it back to Jim. "He's on his way."
"He blames me."
"No-he wants to blame someone, something for what happened. He's grieving, just like you." Simon fell quiet and the men waited for Naomi to return. Finally, she appeared and led them to the CCU.
"I have to head back to the station Jim. You going to be okay?" Simon asked, doubtful.
"He'll be fine," Naomi assured the captain. "We'll be fine," she amended, as she took Jim's hand in her own.
"Call me if you need anything-either of you," Simon said before taking his leave.
Jim clutched Naomi's hand tightly and looked at the far wall. "He's not going to die," he said, testing the words.
Naomi put her arm around him and lay her head on his shoulder. "He's going to live Jim. He needs us now-more than ever. I can't brush this off-not like I used to. Can't send him to my brother, can't send him off to school. For once, I have to be here until my son tells me I can go. I won't fail him, not this time," she vowed.
Turning and looking at the still figure beside her, she squeezed him gently. "I'm here for you too Jim. You lost your father today-I remember that pain. You need anything, you tell me. I'm here for the long haul-for both my boys."
Jim nodded his head slowly in response. "Thank you," he whispered before standing and crossing to a row of windows. The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon. The dawn of a new day and hopefully the pain would begin to fade like the darkness of the night.
It was another hour before Blair was brought to the CCU. Jim stood nervously outside the door, barely listening to the doctor. He only caught fractions of what was being said, but heard enough to know that Blair was alive and breathing on his own. He'd been awake long enough for them to be comfortable moving him into the CCU. Now, Jim just wanted to see his friend with his own eyes; to know that he hadn't lost everything in one nightmarish moment.
A light touch on his arm snapped him out of his reverie. "Jim?" Naomi's gentle voice called.
"Yeah. Can we go in?" Jim asked turning to face her.
"Only for a few minutes. He's still very weak and they want him to rest." Naomi pulled on Jim's arm, leading him into the dim room.
Blair lay in the bed, his eyes closed and his breathing even. Jim knew that he was breathing on his own, but was still relieved to see his partner unencumbered by a bulky breathing tube. Feeling his chest tighten as he looked at his still guide, Jim stepped closer and took a lax hand in his own.
"Blair," he whispered, tears forming again in his eyes. Releasing the hand, he scrubbed at his betraying eyes. "Damn!" he muttered as he swiped at the tears.
"It's okay Jim. Tears are good-they're renewing. Let them flow. It's hard, I know, but you'll be okay. I promise." Naomi had her arms wrapped around the grieving man and gently kissed a wet cheek.
A sound from behind them made them both jump. Turning, they saw a sleepy pair of eyes squinting at them.
"Hey," a tiny voice whispered and even Jim had to strain to hear it. "Tha," the voice stuck and then tried again. "That's my mom" it croaked.
"Blair, sweetie," Naomi gushed as she hurried to his side. Jim stood back and watched as mother and son reconnected. Jim shuffled his feet and glanced up, finally noticing that the gaze had lingered on him.
"Hey Chief," Jim whispered as he drew closer. The eyes followed him and Jim finally noticed the thin wet trail down a pale cheek.
"I know-you probably don't feel too good right now. You go head and sleep. Naomi and I are going to be right here. You're not alone, okay?" Jim reassured his frightened guide.
"'Kay," the weak voice answered. Blair blinked and a small smile formed before he drifted off to sleep again.
"He's going to be okay," Naomi whispered, leaning against Jim.
"Yeah, he is," Jim agreed. "We're going to be okay," he amended.
"I know we are Jim. I know we are," Naomi declared as the pair quietly left the room.
"We have to be," Jim said. "He needs us."
By: Victoria May
The courtyard was crowded. It looked as if all of Cascade had shown for this year's declaration of Cop of the Year. The Cascade Optimist's Club had worked hard planning this year's event. White lights lay draped over bushes and climbed the trunks of trees, exploding in a frenzy of white twinkling stars in the branches. Cascade's finest were littered across the wide yard, clutching small plates of finger sandwiches, veggies and dip, and a selection of desserts. Champaign flowed freely and in the far corner of the gaily lit yard, a small but cheerful group raised their glasses for a toast.
"I think we can all guess who this year's recipient of Cop of the Year is going to be, but before he, or she-ehem, gets that honor, I'd like to commend all of you for a job well done. You've all worked hard and have nothing to be ashamed of. Only one officer can receive this particular honor, but, I want you all to know-you're the best damn team I've ever had the honor of working with." To a chorus of 'here-here!' and 'cheers!' Captain Simon Banks lifted his glass and saluted the men and women of Major Crimes.
After the backslapping and hugging had died down, Simon cleared his throat and raised his glass again. "As I said, we can guess who this year's recipient is going to be-again, but there's someone else here who I think also deserves a little recognition for his contributions to the department, and more importantly his contributions to our Cop of the Year." He paused and looked around before catching sight of the resident observer. "Sandburg, get over here and quit hiding behind Taggert."
Simon waited while Blair Sandburg, BA, MA and hopefully soon to be Ph.D. was pushed, pulled and dragged from his hiding place behind the explosive's expert. As soon as the smaller man was near enough, a long, dark arm darted out and snatched at his coat sleeve, pulling the observer closer. Holding up his hands to silence his troop, he began again.
"I just wanted to-publicly-thank Blair Sandburg for all he's done for Major Crimes. You're not a cop," he stopped and laughed at the look on Blair's face. "Didn't expect that one, did you?" he teased before continuing. "You're not a cop, but I have a feeling that if we could just get you into the academy, you'd be a first rate officer and I wouldn't be surprised to see you up there on that stage receiving this award. But, since you aren't a cop, you'll just have to settle for this." Simon turned and extended his hand, closing his fingers around a lumpy, cloth covered object. Pulling it in front of him, he slid the cloth off and held up a small plaque.
"Blair Sandburg, I'm pleased to present you with this award, Observer of the Year." With that, he handed the plaque to the smaller man and reached to shake his hand.
Blair looked at the small award in awe and surprise. He blinked back the tears he could feel pooling in his eyes and looked at the small crowd that was gathered around. "I don't know what to say," he began.
"How 'bout 'thank you'?" a voice called out.
Blair looked up and grinned. "Thank you. I can't believe you did this, but thank you."
When Simon saw that his observer wasn't going to say anything else, he sighed and rolled his eyes. Raising his glass, he toasted, "To the man of many words, Blair Sandburg, for going above and beyond the call of duty for an,"
"Observer!" the crowd called out, whistling and cheering.
Blair found himself in the midst of excited cops, all wanting to shake his hand and slap him on the back. When the crowd finally cleared, he looked up to find his friend and roommate, Detective Jim Ellison at his side.
"Congratulations Sandburg," the detective said, pulling the younger man into a quick hug. He released Blair and snagged the small award out of his friend's hand. "Nice," he complimented, using his shirt cuff to polish the glass overlay.
"Was this your idea?" Blair probed the older man before reaching for the plaque.
"Nope. This was purely Simon's idea." At Blair's incredulous look, he added, "Well, a few of us may have bent his ear just a little, but he was all for it. Said it was about time you got some recognition."
"Uhuh," Blair said, doubtful. Before he could continue, the speakers held high in the trees, crackled to life.
"Welcome to this year's Officer of the Year banquet and award ceremony." The voice of Cascade's mayor floated over the yard. "It's been a long year. Many good things have happened this past year, but unfortunately there's also been lots of crime. I'd like to thank all of Cascade's finest for doing their best to keep us safe. Let's have a round of applause for the men and women of the Cascade Police Department!"
A loud cheer arose, followed by the thunder of applause. When the noise died down, the mayor continued. "While all of you have done your very best to keep the streets safe for our loved ones, putting murderers, rapists, drug dealers, and thieves safely away behind bars, there is always one officer who stands out above the rest. Going that extra step, risking life and limb to protect us all. This officer is not a glory hound, but a man dedicated to doing his very best. This man has taken that extra step in the past and has done it again. But, before I introduce this individual, his father has a few words he'd like to say."
The mayor stepped back from the podium and gestured for another man to step up. The man was tall, with graying blond hair and mustache. The man, William Ellison, began to speak.
"I didn't raise my son with any hopes that he would become an officer of the law. I should have had some clue that this was where his life was headed when he graduated college and joined the military. Instead, I'd always held out for my son to see the light and join me in my business pursuits. To say the least, I was disappointed. I wanted to be able to brag to my friends about my son's business conquests. I wanted to say, this is my son, I am so proud.
"I wasted so many years that way. Waiting for my son, James Ellison to see things, to do things my way. Today, as I stand here, I want to say that I am glad that I was wrong. I am glad that my son never saw fit to bend to an old man's whims. Instead, he followed his own heart, and in the end, that heart led him here. My son is a protector, I know that now. And today, I want to say, I am proud of my son, Detective James Ellison, Major Crimes division and this years Officer of the Year. Congratulations Jimmy."
Jim blinked as flash bulbs exploded in his eyes and hands pounded his back. He looked around in a daze before his eyes settled on his partner and guide. Seeing his friend's proud smile was all it took to wake him from his stupor and he began to make his way towards the podium and his father. He looked ahead, at his smiling father and could feel the grin spreading across his own face. His father was proud of him, and damn did it feel good.
Jim had almost reached the podium when the crackle of gunfire filled the night. Screams echoed through the courtyard and bodies jerked in a dance of death before collapsing into piles of tangled limbs. Like watching in a dream, Jim could see his father convulse as bullets pieced his chest, his arm, his head. He fell, lifeless to the ground.
"Noooo!" the scream ripped out of him and he ran, stumbling and slamming into anyone who got in his way, until he was kneeling on the ground at his father's side, cradling the bloody head in his arms.
"Dad, dad, it's okay, helps coming-don't you die! Not yet! Not when we're just finding each other again. Please, dad, don't leave me-don't leave me alone!" the cry echoed over the courtyard.
The piercing cry of sirens answered, and soon the yard was bathed in red and blue flashing lights. Gentle hands attempted to coax the fallen man away, out of the safety of the sentinel's arms.
"No! Leave him be. Don't touch him!" the grieving man cried, wrapping his long arms tighter around the still form of his father. He sat, rocking the man who had only just told him how much he cared, how much he regretted. How much he loved his son. It was too soon for him to go. They'd only just begun to repair their relationship. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right and Jim Ellison wasn't ready to let go.
"It isn't fair!" The sorrowful sound was almost drowned by the sobs that shook the large man's body. "It isn't fair."
"I know Jim, I know." Large arms were suddenly around him, holding him and supporting him. "I know Jim. It isn't fair. I know."
"Simon," the mourning man said, never lifting his head from atop his father's.
"Yeah Jim, it's me. You have to let him go now Jim. Come on. Let him go." Simon's dark hands reached down and settled over Jim's.
"He's dead."
"Yeah Jim. I'm sorry. I am so damn sorry." He patted Jim's tightly clenched hand. "Come on Jim. You have to let him go. Someone else needs you now."
Jim shook his head. "No. They're all gone. No one needs me any more. I'm alone now. He left me alone."
"No Jim. You're not alone. Your partner needs you now. Come on." Simon stood and tugged on Jim's jacket. Reluctantly, Jim lay his father's lifeless body onto the ground and stood.
"I have to go to his house. I have to tell Sally." Jim began to walk away from his captain, towards the parking lot.
The taller man caught up with him easily. "Jim. You need to go to Cascade General. I'll have someone drive over to your house-Rafe, or Conner. But I need you to come with me. Blair needs you right now."
"I have to call Stevie. He doesn't know. He couldn't come-he wasn't here." Jim continued to walk, oblivious to what the other man was saying.
"Jim! Listen to me damnit!" Simon wrapped his fingers around Jim's sleeve and held on. The other man helpless in his grasp. "Blair was hit. He's at Cascade General. He needs you right now. Right now Jim. There's nothing else you can do for your father. But you can be there for Blair."
The pale face seemed to glow in the moonlight. Slowly, Jim shook his head. "Blair doesn't need me. That's not how it works. He doesn't need me-I need him. That's how it's always been. Blair's strong. A fighter. He'll pull through. He always does, Simon."
"No Jim! Not this time. He-it's bad Jim. He may not make it. He does need you. Damnit Jim. Don't do this to him! Not again. Not on my watch. If I have to throw you over my shoulder to get you there, you're going. Are you hearing me?" Simon demanded of the stoic man in front of him.
Jim continued to stare straight ahead. "I hear you," he whispered.
"Thank god," Simon breathed. Steering the grief stricken man to his car, Simon sent up a quiet prayer that Blair Sandburg still be alive when they got there.
The ER was full, most of the bodies in the waiting room, Cascade PD officers and their families. Simon found a bare spot of wall and pushed his lead detective against it. "Wait here," he gruffly instructed. Pushing his way through the throng of people, he grabbed hold of a passing nurse.
"I need to find out about one of my people," he commanded, flipping open his ID and flashing it at the young, African-American nurse.
"I'm sorry, officer," the nurse began before a large brown hand was held in the air in front of her, silencing her further.
"Please," he said, more softly. "Blair Sandburg. He was at the police banquet-he was shot. I just-I just need to know if he's alive. Can you tell me that much?" he pleaded.
The nurse closed her mouth and patted the captain's arm. "I'll be right back," she said before turning and pushing her way to an exam room.
Simon turned and studied the walls until he found Jim, right where he'd left him minutes before. The detective was leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"Officer?" a gentle voice asked and Simon turned to see that the nurse was back.
"I don't know much, but Mr. Sandburg is alive. They've taken him up to surgery. Fourth floor. Just take the red elevator to four then follow the purple lines. They'll lead you to a nurse's station. Just ask about him there-they'll know more." The nurse turned away, and was immediately engulfed by the swarm of worried bodies.
Simon pushed his way back to Jim's side and pushed the other man towards the elevator. "He's in surgery. They'll know more there." The ride was silent and Simon studied his quiet friend.
"How are you doing Jim?" he asked.
"Fine. I'm fine. I didn't get shot. I'm fine," the detective answered, his voice empty and lifeless.
"I know that Jim. I meant, how are you in here?" Simon asked, patting Jim's chest.
"I can't let myself feel anything right now Simon. It's too much. If I let myself think that Sandburg might not make it-I just can't," he finished lamely.
"He's not going to die Jim. You have to believe that." A small bell sounded and the elevator doors slid open. Simon exited and waited for Jim before following the purple taped line around the corner and through a large set of automatic doors. He approached the desk.
"I need information about a patient-Blair Sandburg."
The nurse behind the desk looked up. "Are you family?" she asked, disbelieving.
Pulling out his badge again, Simon handed it to her. "He's one of my men. Got shot at the PD banquet. I was told downstairs that he was brought up for surgery." Simon accepted his badge back and tucked into his jacket.
"Was his mother called?" Jim interrupted.
"Let me check, sir." The nurse flipped open a file and nodded. "Yes sir, a Naomi Sandburg was called and is driving in now."
"Good, that's good," Jim mumbled.
"His condition?" Simon prompted.
"I should really wait for his mother to arrive," the nurse hedged.
"Please," Simon asked, hopeful that this nurse would be as understanding as the one in the ER.
"I suppose I can tell you. It's going to be included in the police report anyway. Mr. Sandburg was shot in the chest. The bullet nicked the pericardium."
"Oh god, his heart." The strangled cry came from Jim.
After flicking a concerned glance at Jim, the nurse continued. "They're repairing that now. I really can't tell you any more," the nurse said, looking from Simon to Jim and back to Simon.
Simon wrapped his arm around Jim's shoulders and turned to lead him over to the chairs. "Thank you," he said, turning his head back to the nurse.
The men sat and waited and watched as the clock ticked past minutes and then hours. Simon heard the whoosh of the doors sliding open, and winced as a familiar voice called out, "Jim!"
Jim sprang from his chair and raced across the floor and into the arms of Naomi Sandburg. "I'm so sorry Naomi," his muffled voice said into her hair where his face was pressed.
The redhead stiffened and her bloodshot eyes grew wide. "Is he . . .?"
"No!" Simon answered, jumping out of his chair. "He's in surgery."
Jim released Naomi and stood back. "Sorry. I didn't mean for you to think-to think that," his voice faltered.
"Oh Jim. Are you okay?" As her son often did, Naomi put aside her own pain and wrapped her arm around Jim's waist.
"Yeah. It's just been one hell of day," Jim said as he rubbed at his eyes. "My-my dad. He was at the banquet. Came to surprise me. Said he was proud. He's never said that before," Jim choked as tears began to stream down his face.
Naomi turned shocked eyes to Simon. Receiving a silent nod, Naomi could feel her own eyes fill and overflow. Pulling Jim back into her embrace, she held him until he began to pull away.
"Sorry," he apologized.
"No-you cry Jim. If you need to cry, then you cry. Are you hearing me?" she asked anxiously.
"Yeah Naomi, I hear you," Jim agreed, smiling slightly.
The trio was interrupted by the approach of a tall Asian man in green scrubs. "Mrs. Sandburg?" the doctor asked, looking at Naomi.
"Ms. Sandburg," Naomi corrected, then shook her head. "My son, how is he?"
The doctor gestured to the chairs. "Let's sit." When the small group was seated he began. "I'm doctor Kao, I performed the surgery on Mr. Sandburg . . ."
"Blair, please," Naomi requested.
"Okay," the surgeon said gently. "Blair was shot in the chest and the bullet lodged in the pericardium-the sack surrounding the heart. It stopped there. If it hadn't, Blair wouldn't have made it. As it was, it was touch and go. We lost him on the table twice, but were able to get him back quickly. There should be no long term effects from that. You should know that Blair was suffering from a pericardial effusion when he was brought in to the ER and a pericardial centesis was performed down there."
"What does that mean, exactly?" Simon interrupted.
"There was blood building in the pericardium, putting pressure on Blair's heart. His heart stopped beating in the ER and they had to drain the excess fluid from the sack to reduce the pressure. He was stabilized and brought up to surgery. We had to open his chest to remove the bullet and repair the damage done to the pericardium. We're moving him to recovery right now. His EKG is good-his heart is strong. It's going to take him a while to get back on his feet, but he's going to be just fine. Once he's awake, he'll be moved to the CCU." At the fearful look in the surrounding faces, he hurried to explain. "It's just a precaution until we know for sure there are going to be no complications. Once we're satisfied, he'll be moved to the ICU and then later a regular room. Once that happens, we'll move quickly getting him on his feet and moving around."
Turning to face Naomi, he said seriously, "Your son was very lucky. He's going to need all the support he can get during his recovery. It's not going to be easy for him." Standing, he looked down at the redhead. "You can come and see him for a minute. After that, you'll have to wait until he's settled in the CCU."
Naomi stood to follow but quickly turned to Jim and embraced him. "He's alive. He's going to be fine," she said, new tears in her eyes.
Jim nodded and collapsed wearily into his chair. Simon patted the other man's knee.
"You want to call Steven now?" Simon asked.
Leaning forward, Jim dropped his head into his hands. "What do I say?" he asked weakly. "How do I tell my brother that his dad is gone? They never had the chance to say goodbye. How do I tell him that I finally got to hear how much I am loved and he didn't?"
"Maybe he did Jim. Maybe your father took the opportunity to let Steven know how much he meant to him. Don't assume he doesn't know. And if he doesn't, than you tell him Jim. You tell him how proud of both his sons he was. You tell him that." Simon stood and laid his hand on Jim's shoulder. "I'm going to take a walk-give you some privacy."
Jim watched his friend walk away and finally pulled out his cell phone. After dialing in a string of numbers, he waited for the familiar voice.
'Hello?' Steven's voice was strong, awake. Probably walked out of a meeting or lunch to take the call. Jim's brother, unlike Jim, followed the senior Ellison onto the path of business transactions and financial exchanges. Yet like his older brother, Steven did it far away from their father. He was now in Tokyo conducting business.
"Stevie?" Jim's voice cracked, as he struggled not to cry.
'Jim? What's wrong? What happened? Did something happen to Blair?' the younger man panicked, hearing the grief in his brother's voice.
"No-well, yes. But that's not why I'm calling. Stevie, dad was shot tonight. He's dead." There, he'd said it.
'No. Tell me this is a joke Jimmy. Tell me it isn't true!' the voice pleaded.
"I'm so sorry Stevie. Can you come home?" Jim asked, the tears flowing freely now.
'How Jim? How? What happened?'
"Please, Stevie. I'll explain when you get here. I can't go over it on the phone," Jim pleaded, knowing his brother had a right to know, but not able to repeat it so soon.
'This had something to do with your work didn't it? You said something happened to Blair. Was he shot too? Was dad involved in a case? Oh god, Jim. Was dad killed because of your police work?' There it was. That was what Jim had been fighting-denying.
"Yes," Jim's voice was strangled. "Yes!" he repeated, more loudly. "Please, Stevie. Come home and let me explain-please," his voice faltered. Jim's eyes were clenched tightly and he did not see the large figure approach. He did feel as the phone was taken from his hand.
"Steven? This is Captain Banks. I'm sorry about your father. He and Jim were in attendance at the annual Officer of the Year awards banquet. Someone opened fire into the courtyard where the banquet was being held. Your father was hit and killed. Jim's partner, Blair was also hit. He's alive, barely. Jim doesn't need your blame-he has enough guilt. But he does need you here." Simon was silent as he listened. "Okay. Call when you're close to Cascade and I'll send a squad car to pick you up at the airport." He paused again. "Uhuh. He's holding his own right now. I'll tell him. Goodbye."
Simon folded the phone and handed it back to Jim. "He's on his way."
"He blames me."
"No-he wants to blame someone, something for what happened. He's grieving, just like you." Simon fell quiet and the men waited for Naomi to return. Finally, she appeared and led them to the CCU.
"I have to head back to the station Jim. You going to be okay?" Simon asked, doubtful.
"He'll be fine," Naomi assured the captain. "We'll be fine," she amended, as she took Jim's hand in her own.
"Call me if you need anything-either of you," Simon said before taking his leave.
Jim clutched Naomi's hand tightly and looked at the far wall. "He's not going to die," he said, testing the words.
Naomi put her arm around him and lay her head on his shoulder. "He's going to live Jim. He needs us now-more than ever. I can't brush this off-not like I used to. Can't send him to my brother, can't send him off to school. For once, I have to be here until my son tells me I can go. I won't fail him, not this time," she vowed.
Turning and looking at the still figure beside her, she squeezed him gently. "I'm here for you too Jim. You lost your father today-I remember that pain. You need anything, you tell me. I'm here for the long haul-for both my boys."
Jim nodded his head slowly in response. "Thank you," he whispered before standing and crossing to a row of windows. The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon. The dawn of a new day and hopefully the pain would begin to fade like the darkness of the night.
It was another hour before Blair was brought to the CCU. Jim stood nervously outside the door, barely listening to the doctor. He only caught fractions of what was being said, but heard enough to know that Blair was alive and breathing on his own. He'd been awake long enough for them to be comfortable moving him into the CCU. Now, Jim just wanted to see his friend with his own eyes; to know that he hadn't lost everything in one nightmarish moment.
A light touch on his arm snapped him out of his reverie. "Jim?" Naomi's gentle voice called.
"Yeah. Can we go in?" Jim asked turning to face her.
"Only for a few minutes. He's still very weak and they want him to rest." Naomi pulled on Jim's arm, leading him into the dim room.
Blair lay in the bed, his eyes closed and his breathing even. Jim knew that he was breathing on his own, but was still relieved to see his partner unencumbered by a bulky breathing tube. Feeling his chest tighten as he looked at his still guide, Jim stepped closer and took a lax hand in his own.
"Blair," he whispered, tears forming again in his eyes. Releasing the hand, he scrubbed at his betraying eyes. "Damn!" he muttered as he swiped at the tears.
"It's okay Jim. Tears are good-they're renewing. Let them flow. It's hard, I know, but you'll be okay. I promise." Naomi had her arms wrapped around the grieving man and gently kissed a wet cheek.
A sound from behind them made them both jump. Turning, they saw a sleepy pair of eyes squinting at them.
"Hey," a tiny voice whispered and even Jim had to strain to hear it. "Tha," the voice stuck and then tried again. "That's my mom" it croaked.
"Blair, sweetie," Naomi gushed as she hurried to his side. Jim stood back and watched as mother and son reconnected. Jim shuffled his feet and glanced up, finally noticing that the gaze had lingered on him.
"Hey Chief," Jim whispered as he drew closer. The eyes followed him and Jim finally noticed the thin wet trail down a pale cheek.
"I know-you probably don't feel too good right now. You go head and sleep. Naomi and I are going to be right here. You're not alone, okay?" Jim reassured his frightened guide.
"'Kay," the weak voice answered. Blair blinked and a small smile formed before he drifted off to sleep again.
"He's going to be okay," Naomi whispered, leaning against Jim.
"Yeah, he is," Jim agreed. "We're going to be okay," he amended.
"I know we are Jim. I know we are," Naomi declared as the pair quietly left the room.
"We have to be," Jim said. "He needs us."
