Jim sat alone in the loft, staring at a ball game he wasn't watching
and holding a beer that had gone warm in the bottle. Simon had
ordered him home, or at least out of the squad room, for at least
twenty-four hours. When the phone rang, it took four rings for
him to answer it.
"Yeah, Ellison."
"Detective, this is Jenn."
Jim sat up straight on the couch, phone clamped to his ear. "Jenn?"
"Detective...Jim. We need a truce here. Sonata is willing to let us
move Blair, but not too far. He wants to get back to his life, and
we want to help him do that."
"I'm listening."
"Okay, then." He heard her take a deep breath, let it out slowly.
"Blair says that he'd trust you with his life. He's asking me to trust
you with mine. Please...tomorrow evening, seven p.m. Do you know
where Martin's cafe is? "
Jim nodded, then smiled to himself as he answered, "Martin's with the
outside patio?"
"That's the one. We'll meet you there, Blair and I. Please come alone."
She hesitated a minute."I KNOW you're going to set a trap, call the
other members of your team and have them waiting to arrest me. Blair
says that you won't. He can't walk there by himself, Jim. One of us has
to be there." And then she sighed. "So I guess it will be me. I'll see
you tomorrow evening."
"Jenn, wait!" He wanted to respond to the lack of hope in her voice,
to the fear he heard underneath it, but words had never been his
strength. Still, he tried to put it all into his voice. "Thank you."
"For helping him?"
"For not leaving me hanging, even after the traced call."
"What can I say, Detective? I'm too nice for my own good."
And the connection broke, was replaced by a buzzing sound.
Jim punched the off button decisively, and tossed the phone onto
the couch. He had plans to make.
Jazz returned to find the whole family gathered in the large outer
room, lamps and candles burning all around. The twins were drowsing
in Sonata's and their mother's laps, and BeBop was playing Bach on
his guitar. Blair was sitting behind the long table, his eyes dark blue
in the dim light, tiny echoes of flame shining gold in them. The triplets
rippled from the street man's flashing fingers on the strings, and Blair
was nodding in time to the music, a dreamy smile on his face.
With a smile of her own, Jazz slipped her recorder free of the loop
on her braided belt and came in with the melody of the piece being
played. She stood in the doorway and the soft piping slid along
the waves of sound. When they had finished, Retro took over the
guitar, and Hush handed Allegra to Jazz, took up her flute. Charlie
told a handful of tall tales when they were tired, and Sonata spelled
her with poetry, some recited from memory, some read aloud from
a well thumbed volume.
Blair shook his head when Sonata paused. "I wish...I can't sing outside
of the shower, and I don't play anything but drums. I know a couple
of chants, I picked them up when I was on a study on Borneo. There's
this village, where.." The others encouraged him with questions, and the
anthropologist found himself contributing after all. Not with chants, but
with the stories of his travels, the stories of the people he had met. Great
respect and humour touched his tales, and he told them with endearing
charm and enthusiasm. His listeners were fascinated, and it was late before
they ended the evening and went to bed.
Blair was relieved when they finally stood in a vacant lot, back out
in the fresh air. The sun was just setting, and even the overgrown weeds
had a richness to them as he looked around, his wound on fire.
Sonata was checking the bandages, shaking her head over the fresh
blood seeping through. "You tore this open again, climbing the ladder.
You should have let the boys carry you, Blair. Your friend is to take
you to a hospital first thing. Do you understand me?"
Blair had NOT wanted to be carried up the escape hatch ladder of
the abandoned bomb shelter, and he didn't want to delay his return.
"I promise, right to the doctor." And he leaned forward, carefully hugged
the older woman. "I don't know how to thank you, Sonata. You saved
my life."
"You go on, child. You live your life, and you take care of your family.
That's all the thanks anyone needs." She pushed the dark curls off his
face for the last time. "Go on now."
"Jazz, I'll take him back." BeBop, then Retro stepped forward.
She frowned. "Don't be stupid. He's already seen me, and I don't
think I have any current warrants out on me. Just because I'm a
damn fool, I don't want you guys to be fools too. We're going."
Blair shook hands with BeBop and Retro, and Cha Cha kissed his
cheek, then rubbed her scarlet lipstick off his skin with her thumb.
Jazz stood waiting, and when he turned to go, he leaned heavily on
her, his arm around her waist. He took a deep breath, and she
grinned at him.
"You ready?" She asked, and he nodded.
"Not too fast, okay?"
"No problem. I'm not looking forward to this myself."
Jim heard Blair before he saw him come around the corner in
the fast falling twilight. He felt his Guide heading toward him, heard
his heartbeat, and he was on his feet and moving toward Blair on
pure instinct.
Sandburg looked good. He was clean, wearing an unfamiliar sweatshirt
and his own jeans. He was obviously in pain as he moved slowly down
the sidewalk, the slight figure beside him supporting his weight. But
the big, open smile on his face was pure Blair. "Jim!"
"Chief." And the older man was there, his hands skimming over his
partner's face and head, his shoulders, stopping at the bandage that
smelled of fresh blood. He couldn't stop the grin that stretched across
his own face when Blair grasped both of his forearms in a familiar
"hey man, slow down" gesture.
"You gonna be okay from here, Blair?" Jazz asked her question
quietly, observing the reunion with a smile of her own. There was
love here, and commitment, and the kind of trust she only had with
her own family. It was good to see.
Both men looked at her, and she met Jim's gaze squarely. "I kept
my word, Jim. Our doctor told me to tell you, he needs to go to the
hospital tonight. You don't want to risk any kind of infection on this
sort of hurt."
"Jazz..." The young man and woman stared at each other for a long
minute, then leaned in for a quick hug. "I.."
"Me too, Blair. I'll see you around." And her gray eyes flashed a question
at Jim. To her surprise, and Blair's, the big man gently put an arm around
her shoulders. He couldn't give her a proper hug without letting go of
his Guide, and he had no intention of doing that. Still, a two armed hug
might not have been as appropriate as the light embrace he gave her.
"Thank you, Jenn." The detective's voice was soft, and she responded with
a smile of her own, a real smile.
"I'll see you around too, Jim."
Jim shifted Blair's weight onto his own shoulders, and she was gone, fading
into the twilight.
Epilogue
A month later, Jim and Blair pulled up in front of St Anne's church. The Guide
was almost back to normal, and his Sentinel was just starting to let up on his
hovering protective stance.
"A bomb shelter, Chief? Under a church?"
"They don't know it's there anymore. Jazz told me that it was bricked up
and behind plaster on the church side. There's an old bolt hole that they
use to get in." He stared up at the stately old building. "I haven't seen
any of them on the quad, Jim. Do you think they're still there?"
"I think they trusted you, Chief. They may be a bit less visible for a while, but
they're there. I've got a good feeling about it."
And Jim pulled back out into traffic, and they went home.
The end.
and holding a beer that had gone warm in the bottle. Simon had
ordered him home, or at least out of the squad room, for at least
twenty-four hours. When the phone rang, it took four rings for
him to answer it.
"Yeah, Ellison."
"Detective, this is Jenn."
Jim sat up straight on the couch, phone clamped to his ear. "Jenn?"
"Detective...Jim. We need a truce here. Sonata is willing to let us
move Blair, but not too far. He wants to get back to his life, and
we want to help him do that."
"I'm listening."
"Okay, then." He heard her take a deep breath, let it out slowly.
"Blair says that he'd trust you with his life. He's asking me to trust
you with mine. Please...tomorrow evening, seven p.m. Do you know
where Martin's cafe is? "
Jim nodded, then smiled to himself as he answered, "Martin's with the
outside patio?"
"That's the one. We'll meet you there, Blair and I. Please come alone."
She hesitated a minute."I KNOW you're going to set a trap, call the
other members of your team and have them waiting to arrest me. Blair
says that you won't. He can't walk there by himself, Jim. One of us has
to be there." And then she sighed. "So I guess it will be me. I'll see
you tomorrow evening."
"Jenn, wait!" He wanted to respond to the lack of hope in her voice,
to the fear he heard underneath it, but words had never been his
strength. Still, he tried to put it all into his voice. "Thank you."
"For helping him?"
"For not leaving me hanging, even after the traced call."
"What can I say, Detective? I'm too nice for my own good."
And the connection broke, was replaced by a buzzing sound.
Jim punched the off button decisively, and tossed the phone onto
the couch. He had plans to make.
Jazz returned to find the whole family gathered in the large outer
room, lamps and candles burning all around. The twins were drowsing
in Sonata's and their mother's laps, and BeBop was playing Bach on
his guitar. Blair was sitting behind the long table, his eyes dark blue
in the dim light, tiny echoes of flame shining gold in them. The triplets
rippled from the street man's flashing fingers on the strings, and Blair
was nodding in time to the music, a dreamy smile on his face.
With a smile of her own, Jazz slipped her recorder free of the loop
on her braided belt and came in with the melody of the piece being
played. She stood in the doorway and the soft piping slid along
the waves of sound. When they had finished, Retro took over the
guitar, and Hush handed Allegra to Jazz, took up her flute. Charlie
told a handful of tall tales when they were tired, and Sonata spelled
her with poetry, some recited from memory, some read aloud from
a well thumbed volume.
Blair shook his head when Sonata paused. "I wish...I can't sing outside
of the shower, and I don't play anything but drums. I know a couple
of chants, I picked them up when I was on a study on Borneo. There's
this village, where.." The others encouraged him with questions, and the
anthropologist found himself contributing after all. Not with chants, but
with the stories of his travels, the stories of the people he had met. Great
respect and humour touched his tales, and he told them with endearing
charm and enthusiasm. His listeners were fascinated, and it was late before
they ended the evening and went to bed.
Blair was relieved when they finally stood in a vacant lot, back out
in the fresh air. The sun was just setting, and even the overgrown weeds
had a richness to them as he looked around, his wound on fire.
Sonata was checking the bandages, shaking her head over the fresh
blood seeping through. "You tore this open again, climbing the ladder.
You should have let the boys carry you, Blair. Your friend is to take
you to a hospital first thing. Do you understand me?"
Blair had NOT wanted to be carried up the escape hatch ladder of
the abandoned bomb shelter, and he didn't want to delay his return.
"I promise, right to the doctor." And he leaned forward, carefully hugged
the older woman. "I don't know how to thank you, Sonata. You saved
my life."
"You go on, child. You live your life, and you take care of your family.
That's all the thanks anyone needs." She pushed the dark curls off his
face for the last time. "Go on now."
"Jazz, I'll take him back." BeBop, then Retro stepped forward.
She frowned. "Don't be stupid. He's already seen me, and I don't
think I have any current warrants out on me. Just because I'm a
damn fool, I don't want you guys to be fools too. We're going."
Blair shook hands with BeBop and Retro, and Cha Cha kissed his
cheek, then rubbed her scarlet lipstick off his skin with her thumb.
Jazz stood waiting, and when he turned to go, he leaned heavily on
her, his arm around her waist. He took a deep breath, and she
grinned at him.
"You ready?" She asked, and he nodded.
"Not too fast, okay?"
"No problem. I'm not looking forward to this myself."
Jim heard Blair before he saw him come around the corner in
the fast falling twilight. He felt his Guide heading toward him, heard
his heartbeat, and he was on his feet and moving toward Blair on
pure instinct.
Sandburg looked good. He was clean, wearing an unfamiliar sweatshirt
and his own jeans. He was obviously in pain as he moved slowly down
the sidewalk, the slight figure beside him supporting his weight. But
the big, open smile on his face was pure Blair. "Jim!"
"Chief." And the older man was there, his hands skimming over his
partner's face and head, his shoulders, stopping at the bandage that
smelled of fresh blood. He couldn't stop the grin that stretched across
his own face when Blair grasped both of his forearms in a familiar
"hey man, slow down" gesture.
"You gonna be okay from here, Blair?" Jazz asked her question
quietly, observing the reunion with a smile of her own. There was
love here, and commitment, and the kind of trust she only had with
her own family. It was good to see.
Both men looked at her, and she met Jim's gaze squarely. "I kept
my word, Jim. Our doctor told me to tell you, he needs to go to the
hospital tonight. You don't want to risk any kind of infection on this
sort of hurt."
"Jazz..." The young man and woman stared at each other for a long
minute, then leaned in for a quick hug. "I.."
"Me too, Blair. I'll see you around." And her gray eyes flashed a question
at Jim. To her surprise, and Blair's, the big man gently put an arm around
her shoulders. He couldn't give her a proper hug without letting go of
his Guide, and he had no intention of doing that. Still, a two armed hug
might not have been as appropriate as the light embrace he gave her.
"Thank you, Jenn." The detective's voice was soft, and she responded with
a smile of her own, a real smile.
"I'll see you around too, Jim."
Jim shifted Blair's weight onto his own shoulders, and she was gone, fading
into the twilight.
Epilogue
A month later, Jim and Blair pulled up in front of St Anne's church. The Guide
was almost back to normal, and his Sentinel was just starting to let up on his
hovering protective stance.
"A bomb shelter, Chief? Under a church?"
"They don't know it's there anymore. Jazz told me that it was bricked up
and behind plaster on the church side. There's an old bolt hole that they
use to get in." He stared up at the stately old building. "I haven't seen
any of them on the quad, Jim. Do you think they're still there?"
"I think they trusted you, Chief. They may be a bit less visible for a while, but
they're there. I've got a good feeling about it."
And Jim pulled back out into traffic, and they went home.
The end.