Jim and Blair were seated at a booth in the back of the small family restaurant, nursing their beers, and talking through the frustrations of their latest case. Jim kept tilting his head slightly – a posture Blair knew meant he was listening – as they waited for his brother, Steven.
Blair had encouraged Jim to make the effort to reconnect with his younger brother, and was pleased and proud of his partner for the work he put into improving the relationship – even if the work had been one sided to date. While Steven never turned down Jim's overtures, he never made his own.
The owner of the restaurant, Nona Simmons, approached the table, a large smile on her face. Jim had thwarted a robbery at the restaurant when he was still in uniform, and had been a personal favorite of the owner and her staff ever since. They had simply adopted Blair when he came along. "Jim, Blair, it's been too long. Is it my cooking?"
"No, ma'am," Jim answered seriously, his blue eyes dancing with humor, "but my partner doesn't think your pot roast is good for me, so I have to beg him to let me come."
Her hands went to her ample hips, and she turned accusing grey eyes on the younger man. "No way are you buying that!" He laughed, "If this guy would actually take a day off now and then we could get here before you closed."
"It's good to see you both. And yes, Jim, I have pot roast tonight. Something told me you'd show up. I swear you smell it from across town."
Steven walked in the front door at that point, and Jim stood up and motioned to him. "Nona, I would like you to meet my brother, Steven. Steven, Mrs. Simmons makes the best pot roast and chocolate cream pie in the greater Northwest." They exchanged pleasantries, and she left to get Steven's drink order.
"Hey little brother, glad you could make it," Jim said, a smile gracing his handsome face. "You'll love the food here. Nona makes the best – well, except for Sally, of course. Say what did you have for lunch; I can still smell the cumin."
"Not exactly a coat and tie place," Steven responded sarcastically, erasing his brother's smile.
"Sorry, Steven, but my schedule's been so screwed up lately, I didn't want to pick a place that required a reservation." Steven's wine arrived at that point, along with a delicious hot dip and chips, and Blair started asking their guest about a project he was working on. He could feel Jim pulling back emotionally, and he wanted to slap the younger Ellison for the way he was behaving. The older man had really been looking forward to this dinner, and Steven seemed intent on ruining it right off the bat. They ordered, and Steven, after making several disparaging remarks about the menu, went back to telling Blair about his project, ignoring his sibling. When Blair tried to change the subject, he was brushed off.
Nona personally brought their meals, and smiled as Jim took an appreciative sniff of his pot roast. Before digging in, Steven leaned across his brother's plate, and pointed to someone at the far end of the restaurant. "Isn't that Susan Cummings – you know you dated her junior year?"
"Little brother, I think maybe you need to have your eyes checked – that woman is at least ten years older then I am," Jim responded with a gentle elbow in the ribs, and returned to his dinner.
"Jim…Jim what's wrong?" Blair asked three minutes later as he saw his partner's facial expression.
"Trouble," was the whispered response as the bigger man grabbed his throat, "can't breathe…Blair?" His eyes rolled back in his head as soon as he finished and Blair grabbed him with one hand to steady him. He threw his cell phone at Steven and grabbed his backpack, ripping open an outside pocket.
"Call 911. Tell them we need an ambulance, now!" Blair ordered as he pulled an epi pen from the pocket and pushed the table out of the way. He gently lowered his partner to the floor, and stuck the pen in his thigh. "Just breathe, Jim," he whispered in his Guide voice as he loosened his collar, and checked his pulse. "Just breathe, it'll be alright."
"What the hell's going on, Sandburg? Help him!" Steven yelled as he looked at the ashen face of his brother.
"Go out front and wait for the ambulance. Go!" Blair ordered as Steven looked like he was ready to argue.
Nona joined Blair, and offered a cold cloth, "Blair, what happened?"
"I don't know, he was eating and suddenly he couldn't breathe."
"I don't use anything that Jim's allergic to," she said quietly, as her hand tenderly stroked the shuttered face.
"I know, Nona, so does Jim. Sometimes he just…where the hell's the ambulance?" he finished, as he felt the pulse beneath his fingers flutter.
"Blair, what's going on?" Joey Pace asked as he settled his medical box on the floor.
"Hey Joey, I'm not sure. I think it's an allergic reaction. I stuck him with an epi about 4 minutes ago. It seemed to help some, but his breathing is stuttering now."
"Okay, why don't you move to the other side, and let me look," the paramedic said as he began to take Jim's vitals.
"Dave, I need the O2 and get Mercy to call Dr. West," he yelled to his partner. "Damn…come on Jim, don't do this," he uttered as he grabbed for an airway. "Blair tilt his head back – a little more…okay, let's see if I can get this in before it swells any further…there." He sat back as the airway slipped into place. "Let's bag and drag," he said to his partner who pulled up the stretcher. "Blair, keep his head still. Okay on three."
Steven, who had stayed in the background, suddenly moved to climb into the ambulance after Blair helped settled Jim, and Dave stopped him. "Sorry, no room."
"Look, I'm his brother," he started to argue.
"And Blair has his medical power of attorney," Dave responded before closing the door.
Dr. West, a man Jim and Blair had picked after carefully screening half a dozen physicians, met the ambulance at the ER door. "Blair?"
"He was eating pot roast – a place we eat all the time. It's never bothered him before, and the owner said she hadn't changed the recipe. She gave me the meal…"
"Okay, you do the paperwork, while I take a look."
Blair and Steven sat in the waiting room for over an hour before Dr. West came out. "John, this is Jim's brother, Steven, he was having dinner with us." Blair said in way of introduction.
"He's still having trouble breathing, his airway is very swollen, and red welts have broken out all over his body. If you hadn't had the epi pen…His heart is struggling too. Do you have any idea what he could have eaten?"
"He had a beer – Molson, in a bottle – and had just started on pot roast, potatoes and carrots, in gravy. He didn't have lunch or a snack…no time today." Blair carefully reeled off what he remembered.
"You said he's had this pot roast before?"
"John, it's one of his favorites and Nona – the owner – knows Jim's sensitivities with food, and has banned the spices he has a problem with from her kitchen."
"Another woman fallen victim to the Ellison charm," John said with a smile.
"Jim stopped a robbery at the place when he was in uniform. He's going to be alright?"
"I'll do everything I can. Right now, it would help if I knew what caused it."
Blair held up the small plastic container. "This is his dinner."
The doctor opened the container, and took a sniff. "Blair? There's cumin in here."
"No! Nona doesn't use that in her recipe - hell she doesn't even keep it in the kitchen."
Dr. West strode back toward the treatment area. Blair's head came up out of his hands, as he began to replay the dinner conversation. "You son of a bitch!" He yelled, and surged toward Steven, holding him by the neck against the wall. "You did it! What the hell were you trying to do, kill him?"
Simon Banks pulled his police observer off the cowering man with great difficulty. "Sandburg! What do you think you are doing?"
"He tired to kill Jim!" He howled his rage, and the fear was clear in his voice.
"Blair?" Simon asked softly, taken aback now that he realized the man under attack was his senior detective's brother.
The smaller man turned, pulled his hair back with one hand, and looked his Captain in the eye. "Jim is allergic to the spice, cumin. We had just started dinner when he had trouble breathing, and passed out. The owner gave me his dinner – its' laced with cumin. Jim asked…asked him what he had for lunch because he smelled like cumin. When Jim was 15 he almost died from an allergic reaction to the spice. Steven knows that. Search him Simon!" He ordered; his anger in full force.
Simon looked for a moment longer at the younger man, before turning his attention to the man still cowering against the wall. "Steven Ellison," he said in a level tone, "put your hands against the wall and spread your legs." Steven did as he was told. Banks patted him down lightly but thoroughly, and pulled a plastic bag one third full of the spice from his inside jacket pocket.
"I want him arrested for the attempted murder of a police officer," Blair declared.
"Sandburg?" Simon asked.
"He knew what would happen, and he did it anyway. Jim's in there – he can't breathe by himself, he's covered in welts, and his heart is – that, that son of a bitch put him there. I'll make it a citizen's arrest if I have to."
Banks read the younger Ellison his rights, and cuffed him. "Why'd you do it?"
"I was just trying to have some fun." Steven responded angrily.
"You knew what would happen. You saw first hand before…" Blair stopped, his anger replaced by confusion.
"He's not some fragile thing that's gonna break. I figured it was time he got a grip and figured out he's no different then anyone else."
"He is different," Blair said urgently. "He lives on a tightrope where the wrong food, the wrong smell or the wrong noise can send him plunging to the ground. He didn't ask for this, but he's accepted it and works hard to control it so he can do his job. He has never asked for special treatment, ever…all he wanted from you was friendship. Was that too much for him to ask?"
"He just wanted someone else to pick up after him. Obviously you weren't doing a very good job of it. So he needed me. And I did that my entire childhood, and am not getting sucked in again."
"So you thought you'd kill him?" Simon injected.
"You're over reacting – everybody always does when it comes to him." A code blue call blared over the loud speaker, and personnel rushed toward the room where Jim was being treated. Blair paled.
"Sit down, Sandburg; I'll be right back, as soon as I get someone to take out the trash."
"Come on Jim, don't go down that road, man; not now…don't give him the satisfaction," Blair whispered before leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. He found himself in the jungle, following his spirit guide. He could hear the panther, but despite how far or how fast he ran, he couldn't find him. He jerked back to awareness when Simon thrust a cup of hot coffee in his hand. "Blair, Dr. West is here."
"John?"
"I'm admitting him to ICU. I won't lie to you, Blair, it's bad. He coded a few minutes ago, and it took three hits to get him back. You and I both know just how tough Jim is and that he won't give up. So between his stubbornness and your patience, we will beat this. Go up to ICU. I've left instructions that you're to be given unlimited access. He needs you now."
He had encouraged his partner to spend time with his brother after they were reunited during a case. He'd argued strenuously that both men had changed and without their father's Machiavellian intervention, they could have a relationship. His partner had protested loudly at first, and then, worn down by all the arguments had agreed. He'd had his own hopes, Blair knew, but Steven's behavior never allowed those hopes to be realized. Yet Jim had stuck with it – hoping that if he worked hard enough, his brother would get the message
"Come on big guy, Nona's pretty miffed that we left without having her chocolate cream pie…Jim, I'm scared. I don't know if you…I'm so sorry I pushed you to spend time with Steven. You tried to tell me but I wouldn't listen…push, push, push. Please, wake up, and I promise I won't push anymore, and I'll listen – really listen – when you tell me why you don't want to do something. Hey, that's a pretty big concession from your guide, but it's a limited time offer." Blair sat in the hard plastic chair, holding Jim's hand in both of his. He looked at his partner and best friend – pale beneath the vicious red welts. Too still – for even in sleep Jim seemed to embody action. "And how am I going to tell you that your brother put you here? It's going to crush you – I am so sorry I pushed."
Seventy two hours moved by slowly, Blair maintaining his vigil. Simon brought coffee, and the news that despite the DA's best effort, Steven Ellison had been granted bail. At the look of despair from the blue eyes, Banks quickly added that they had gotten a restraining order as part of his bail agreement.
Jim was lost, not in the jungle where he normally found himself, but in his bedroom in his father's house. He was 15 and trying desperately to catch his breath. When he couldn't, he stumbled to his brother's room – only to find the door locked. He begged Steven to help him; only to have his baby brother tell him to 'drop dead for all I care.'
He stumbled down the stairs to his father's office. The old man started yelling when he knocked. It was only after he passed out that his father opened the door to find out why he was being bothered. The hospital was scary, and his father was angry at him. When the doctor finally figured out the problem, his father went ballistic. "What kind of freak are you? Obviously you take after your mother – no stamina, no strength." When his father took him home the next night, he was sent to his room. His father took Steven to a Jags game, leaving the teenager all alone. The youngster stayed awake all night, afraid he wouldn't wake up if he fell asleep.
When Jim finally came too, it was to find tears running down Blair's face. Blair had seen the dream as it played out – his spirit guide cowering in a corner of the room with the panther as it happened. "God, Jim…," he placed a gentle hand on the patient's face. "I'm so glad to see you, man. Let me tell them you're awake, and see if we can get rid of that tube." Blair hit the call button, and turned back to his partner. "I've missed you, big guy."
A shaky hand clamped briefly on Blair's arm, before Jim fell asleep. When he woke again, 14 hours later, Simon was with Blair. "Hey, Jim," Simon smiled at his senior detective, "nice of you to join us."
"What happened?" His whisper was hoarse, and he tensed at the look that passed between his friends.
"What do you remember?" Simon asked.
"Restaurant…pot roast…couldn't breathe." He looked to his partner for a sign – he was confused.
"That's right. There was cumin in the pot roast."
"No, no…Nona doesn't, no…Steven smelled like cumin." The blue eyes cringed as his mind caught up with the thought.
"He had a bag of it in his jacket. He put some in your dinner." Blair worried his bottom lip as he waited for the reaction. He wasn't sure what he expected, but the sorrow and hurt in the blue eyes hit him hard. "Oh Jim…" He wasn't sure what else to say. Simon, too, was at a loss for words – yelling, bitter words he could handle, but the silent pain in his friend cut him deeply.
"Home?" The patient asked.
"Maybe tomorrow. Doctor wants to make sure your vitals remain stable."
"Go home, get some sleep then – and shave." Jim was working at a smile, "And don't forget to come get me."
"You sure?"
"I'm just going to sleep, and I'd hate to see the chiropractor's bill if you spend another night in that chair." He lay awake for a long time, unable to get his mind around the fact that his little brother had tried to kill him. He knew trying to bring him back into his life would entail risk, and despite his protests to Blair, he agreed it was the right thing to do…but to know his brother hated him – enough to kill him – that cut him to the core. So his mother abandoned him; his brother tried to kill him; and his father…well he couldn't go there.
The Guide was glad to get his Sentinel home, and settled. Jim smiled fondly as Blair fussed with the covers. "Easy there, Chief."
"Sorry Jim, I just…I'm glad you're home."
"Me, too. So let me sleep, and tomorrow maybe you'd walk to the park with me after class."
"Sure – the doctor said a walk would do you good." Blair headed for the stairs.
"Hey Chief – Simon said he arrested Steven. I assume he made bail."
The younger man turned and walked back to the bedside. "Yeah. The DA argued against it, though. He didn't think the suspect in the attempted murder of a police officer should be sleeping at home while you were still hooked to a respirator."
"And all this time I didn't think the DA liked me."
"It's not funny, Jim. St…he knew you would have a bad reaction, and he did it on purpose. He should be behind bars – he could have killed you!" Blair hadn't realized he was yelling.
"Hey, Blair, calm down. It's alright. I didn't mean to suggest…hell, I don't know what to think. I'm having a hard time accepting the fact that my little brother tried to kill me."
Blair returned to the bedside. "I didn't want to believe it either, man. I mean, I pushed and nagged at you to get together."
"Oh no, you don't! This isn't your fault, its Steven's. And Simon told me you threatened a citizen's arrest if he didn't do something. Thank you for looking out for me. It's nice to know I have my own Blessed Protector."
Blair blushed. "What do you want to do about it?"
"Not sure, part of me wants to nail him to the wall…"
"And…"
"The other part wants to never see or hear from him again."
The next morning, while Blair was at class, Jim opened the door to find his brother about to knock. The two men stared at each other. "What do you want?" Jim demanded.
"Drop the charges – I can't do my job with them hanging over my head."
"Should have thought of that before you put me in ICU," Jim lashed back.
"Who knew the almighty James Ellison – Army hero; cop of the year; all around golden boy - could be felled by a simple spice?" Steven's nasty tone hurt.
"Well, a successful businessman would have found out - before trying to kill someone - that people on bail can't leave town…unless you'd like to add fugitive to your growing rap sheet."
"I wasn't trying to kill you!"
"What the hell were you trying to do, then?"
There was a long pause, "Always have to be in control, don't you Jimmy?"
"What's your point?"
"You left me with the old man – never a word after that…"
"I joined the Army – wasn't like I could take you with me."
"And then you become the all American hero – miraculously walking out of the jungle."
"So what – you tried to kill me because I had the audacity to survive?"
"Fast track to detective - made Major Crimes squad faster then anyone else."
"I'm a good cop."
"Cop of the Year, I understand."
Blair was at the top of the stairs. He'd stopped when he'd heard the angry words. He wanted to push Steven away – but knew his partner wouldn't appreciate it, so he made himself stay hidden and listen. Besides, his Sentinel would know he was there.
"Just say what you came to say and leave." Jim ordered.
"Don't want to talk about your special abilities? Don't think I'd forget that do you? Boy was Dad glad I didn't follow in your footsteps. It was pretty special, having a freak for a brother."
"Get out," Jim warned, eyes flashing as the tension rolled off him in waves.
"Oh, so maybe being a freak isn't so special – must be tough to be the best of the best, only to find out you're a freak of nature. How come you never capitalized on that? Huh, big brother?"
"How do you think I survived 18 months in the jungle?" Jim almost whispered, his voice cold. This only stopped the younger man's diatribe for a moment.
"Well bully for you. Look, don't think I don't know what is really going on here. You try and get in good with me so I pave the way for you to smooth things over with Dad. If you think I'm letting you ingratiate yourself with the old man so you can get yourself written back into the will, forget it! You left me to deal with him all alone for all these years and you can't come back now and want in on the family fortune. It's mine, I earned it!"
Jim was clearly taken aback with the statement. He opened his mouth but no words came out. "If you're not out of here in 15 seconds, I'm calling the police," Blair barked as he joined his partner. He couldn't sit back any longer and let this man spew his hate. "Being here violates your restraining order."
"Another freak. Never thought short, long haired hippie types were your thing, big brother," Steven taunted. "Who knew the All American boy liked other boys?"
"Call the station, Chief. Have them send a squad car for Mr. Ellison. He'll be returning to lock up." Jim might stand and take all the shit his brother had to dish out, but he would not stand by while anyone attacked his partner.
"Not going to deny it, Jimmy?"
"I don't owe you anything – let alone an explanation." Jim went back into the loft – pushing Blair in first and closing the door. He went to the balcony. Two minutes later he announced, "Squad car's here."
"Jim?"
"He's already in his car."
"Okay, but he still violated the restraining order."
"Just let it go."
"No, I won't! And neither should you."
"I can't do this right now, Blair," the sadness in the voice stopped the younger man's retort.
"I'll go talk to the uniforms," Blair said instead and hurried out. When he returned 20 minutes later he joined Jim on the balcony. "What do you want to do about this?"
"Drop the charges."
"You can't."
"I can," the big man yelled before catching himself. "There's no point to it, Chief. Taking him to court won't change anything, except making a private matter public. He hates me because he thinks I want Dad's money. I'm beginning to think he always has…just let it go, please."
"No. He hurt you, and he's going to keep at it – that much is clear. I'm not going to stand back and let him."
"He can't hurt me anymore, Chief," was the soft reply.
"Jim?" Confusion was evident in the tone.
"He doesn't have the power to hurt me anymore, because I won't give it to him."
"I'm so sorry, Jim," Blair said as he placed a warm hand on his partner's back.
"Nothing to be sorry for, Junior. How about that walk you promised me?"
They spent a long time walking in the nearby park; Jim silent and Blair willing to let it ride for now. They enjoyed the rare sunshine and the antics of several dogs and their owners. Simon was waiting for them back at the loft, and proceeded t ream them both out – Jim for letting his brother go, and Blair, for not stopping him.
"Sir, it was my decision, and I stand by it. There is nothing to be gained by pursuing this further." Jim was pale, and the lines of pain on his forehead reminded Simon that he'd been out of ICU for less then 48 hours. So the captain backed down, waving off the explanation and left.
Long after they had both retired for the night, Blair found himself climbing the stairs to the other bedroom. "Jim?" He called softly once he was at the top.
"Everything alright, Chief?"
"No."
Jim sat up immediately. "What's wrong?"
"I'm worried."
"About?"
"You. Your brother…It has to hurt."
Jim's head came down to stare at his hands. "It does. I don't understand it, probably never will, but I am choosing to let this go."
"You're a good man, Jim Ellison, and you deserve to be happy."
"Not sure about that, Chief, but I have a good job, great friends, and a couple of secret fishing places."
"You making fun of me here?"
"Nope, just telling it like it is. Besides, I have brother – a brother by choice – and that makes me a very lucky man." Jim reached out and gripped Blair's bicep gently.
"I always wanted an older brother," Blair responded with a brilliant smile.
"Just don't think you can use me to pick up women. I'm more then just a handsome face, you know."
"Like I need your help in that area," the younger man volleyed back, ducking to avoid a half hearted cuff thrown at his head.
"Ouch!" Jim flinched dramatically, and the laughter that followed was healing.
Blair departed a few minutes later for his own room. "Good night big brother," he whispered before entering his room.
"Good night, little brother, sweet dreams. "
