~oOo~

"Can I play pokeh too?"

"'Fraid not, Kiddo. This game is just for the big kids." Jim ruffled Blair's head. "Tell you what, though. You can stay up a bit later and have some pizza with the guys. How does that sound?"

"Way cool," Blair said. "Can we have the one with mushrooms?"

"You sure this kid's yours, Ellison?" Simon asked. He had a beer in one hand and a handful of corn chips in the other. "I don't think I've ever seen you eat a mushroom in your life."

Jim whacked Simon on the arm. "Don't go putting ideas into his head. He's a good eater, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Simon put his beer down on the poker table and reached for the pizza menu. "Want me to call? The others should be here in about thirty, and it'll probably take that long for them to deliver."

"Be my guest," Jim said, crossing to the balcony doors. The wind was picking up, bringing the cold air in straight off the bay. He closed the doors, secured the locks, turned around and stopped in his tracks. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. "Blair, put that down." His voice was calm and composed, but he made it perfectly clear that he expected the order he'd just given to be obeyed.

But Blair didn't obey. No.It flashed across his face like a neon sign on the Vegas strip, and Jim recognised Blair's answer. The spirit Jim thought had given the Blair the strength to keep going through the tough times, had also possibly been the catalyst for the majority of Blair's injuries. The stubborn look on Blair's face said nothing more than 'make me'; Jim had seen the same look in himself more often than not. "Blair, I'm going to ask you one more time. Put that back down on the table."

"I 'lowed to drink it," Blair answered, his voice defiant. "Tom sayed I can drink it."

Simon was off the phone. He looked over at Jim. "He's testing you," he mouthed.

Or more specifically, Jim thought, what he's doing is trying to make me angry. Angry enough to hit him. "Blair, I won't tell you again. Put the bottle down on the table."

The bottle moved up, not down, as Blair lifted it to his lips. Jim was quick. He moved forward and, before the liquid had a chance to move down the neck and slash against Blair's lips, he snatched it away. He expected Blair to run and his first thought was the front door, but he needn't have concerned himself as to whether it was locked or not. Blair stood his ground. "Give it back!" Blair shouted angrily. "Tom lets me drink beeh. I want Tom. I not want you."

Blair's words hit Jim hard, but they hit Blair even harder. Remorse, guilt, and sorrow were evident, written over every inch of Blair's face. But like most wrong-doings, apologies didn't come easy. Blair ran. Not to the front door, but to his room. He slammed the door shut with all the force an enraged three-year-old could muster. "I not want you!" he yelled again. "I don't like you." Then, his voice broke. "I want my mama," he cried. His voice hitched and it didn't take much of an imagination for Jim to be able to see the tears running down Blair's face.

Blair's voice became muffled. "I want my mama," he cried again. "I not want you."

Simon's hand was on Jim's shoulder. "He doesn't mean it you know. He's just angry. Confused and angry."

"I know," Jim responded. "But it still hurts." He turned around to face Simon straight on. "How do I get him to understand? To understand how much I do love him."

"He knows, Jim."

"No, Simon. I don't think he does. That's exactly what this whole little episode was all about. He was testing me, you said it yourself. He was trying to push me to a point where I'd break down and lash out at him. He was trying to prove that he was right. That if he's naughty enough, then he'll get hit."

"Then he failed."

"Yeah, he did." The hurt was still there, but determination was edging closer. Blair wasn't going to win this game; no matter what he did, he wasn't going to win. "And he'll keep on failing because it's not going to happen. Not when he's three, not when he's ten, not when he's god damn thirty-seven."

"Seems kind of surreal doesn't it?"

"What?"

"Blair being thirty-seven."

"Yeah," Jim drew out. "I guess it does, and I also get the feeling that it's gonna be a long, hard road between now and then."

"Welcome to the world of parenting, my friend." Simon's hand was back on his shoulder. "But you know what? It's the best job in the world." Then he smiled. "Although I can understand your reservations right about now."

"No," Jim said resolutely. "No reservations, just a hell of a lot of determination."

There was a knock on the door, followed by laughter and commotion in the hallway. "You want me to tell them that tonight's been called off?"

"This is normal, right? Friends, family, evenings like this. It's normal."

"I guess," Simon replied.

"Then that's what we run with. A normal, everyday, American family." Although the words sounded encouraging, fundamentally Jim knew he was just kidding himself. Nothing about Blair's life to date was normal, and trying to pretend otherwise wasn't going to alter that. Blair needed more help than he could give. He needed specialised attention, but Blair wasn't buying it, so that's where it ended. Jim had no intention of manipulating or coercing Blair into a situation that made him uncomfortable. It would be up to him to provide what Blair needed – him, Simon, Joel and anyone else Blair chose to include.

And those were the key words – Blair's choice, because in their unconventional world, there simply was no other option.

~oOo~

He never slept deeply. Ellison was always aware of his surroundings, always aware of what and who was in his space. He figured it was because of his training – the years he'd spent in the army and, more specifically, in the Rangers. But if he'd ever taken time to think about it, to trace it back, he would have drawn a different conclusion. He'd always been aware of his space and he'd always slept with the proverbial 'one eye open'. Except tonight. When he rolled over, he was surprised to find the space next to him occupied. Blair lay beside him, with one leg under and one leg thrown out over the covers. Big Bird was being strangled and Teddy was playing substitute for a pillow, but Blair wasn't asleep. His eyes were open and fixed on his face.

"Hey," Jim said softly. "You okay?"

Blair nodded. The room was dark, but Jim could make out Blair's features perfectly.

Reaching out, Jim brushed his hand down the side of Blair's face. He didn't flinch. At least that was a positive sign. "How did you manage to slip up here under the radar, Chief?" Most likely the couple of beers I had with the guys, he thought. It would be a first. Even after a few beers he was still, always, acutely aware of his space.

"I sowwy," Blair whispered.

"I know," Jim whispered back.

"I love you."

After all that had happened tonight, those three little words said more than Jim could ever have hoped for. Blair had never told him that before. He'd told him that daddies love their little boys, but never really confirmed that little boys also love their daddies. "I know that too," he whispered.

"Will mama comed back?"

"No, Blair, she won't. Not for a long time."

"I miss her," Blair said, even softer than before.

"I know, and I'm sorry."

"You won't go." A statement this time, not a question.

"No," Jim confirmed. "I won't go."

Blair moved closer, and Jim accommodated. Teddy was gone and his arm became Blair's pillow.

"You and me, kid. Team us. Stuck together like glue."

Blair closed his eyes and Jim lay quietly, listening to him breathe. It was probably never going to be easy. But then, he thought, what part of life ever is?

~oOo~

The day of Blair's unofficial birthday party had finally arrived, and the Taggert house was buzzing with excitement. "Must have left my keys in my other jacket," Joel mumbled. He patted down his pockets one more time, just to be sure.

"You just keep lookin', Joel, and I'll go see if the brat wants to come." Jessie was on a mission to throw a perfect party, and she was sending them both to the store to pick up a few extra items.

"Now where has he got to?" Jim muttered, looking straight past Blair. "I know he's around here somewhere." He leaned down to push a bunch of balloons out of his way; when he stood, he had Blair, dangling in the air by his ankles. Still he ignored him. "How hard could it be to find a short-legged humanoid?" he asked.

Joel was back in the room, the car keys hooked around his finger. "Found them," he said.

"That's great, Joel, but have you seen Blair?"

"Nope, can't say that I have." Joel scratched his chin and shook his head. "Maybe he's become invisible. I heard that if you drink too much red lemonade, it's quite possible."

Blair burst into a peel of laughter. The game was up; he'd had nearly two glasses of red lemonade, but he knew he wasn't invisible.

"Oh there you are." Jim lifted his hands higher, bringing Blair's face in line with his own. "I was wondering where you got to."

"You silly!" Blair laughed.

"I know," Jim replied, "But you love me anyway."

"Ah-ha," Blair confirmed. Jim was getting used to hearing that confirmation, but it continued to make him feel whole.

He swung Blair around and dropped him to his feet. "So, Junior, you want to stay here or come to the store with us?"

"I still have to blow balloons," Blair said. "It's my job."

"Okay then." Jim gave Blair a playful tap on the head. "We won't be long; you be a good boy and make sure you help Jessie while we're gone."

Even though they were taking Joel's car, Jim was driving. He backed out of the driveway and waited for Joel to latch the gate. While he noticed the white van packed a little further down the road, he didn't take note of the occupants. It was a maintenance van, for air-conditioning repairs, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a guy going about his business on normal day in a normal week. He drove down the street without a second thought.

"That's him." Naomi kept the hat pulled well down over her face, obscuring her features. "We have to move quickly ... before they come back."

"There's time," the young man replied. He wasn't stupid. He'd already driven several routes, including one from the grocery store to the house. Ten minutes there and ten minutes back. Add to that the time it would take to pick up what they needed, and it gave him a window of at least thirty minutes.

"You sure they've gone to the store?" Naomi asked.

"The tubby one was carrying reusable bags from the grocer, so yeah, my guess is the store."

He pushed open the door and crossed the road. He opened the latch slowly and carefully, to avoid the squeal he'd heard as they waited, and slipped through. Naomi had given him all the details – all the details of what the child's father had done to him. He'd take the kid and they'd run. The bastard would never see his son again. In his eyes, the prick deserved a lot more, but the guy was a cop and he needed to be cautious.

Naomi followed the young man up the path to the house. Oh to be so young and so very gullible, she thought. She'd played him perfectly; found his weak spot and used it to her advantage. "It won't long now, sweetie," she whispered. Sweet, sweet revenge.

The End

TBC in When a Child is Lost