Jim handed him a beer and he took a long drink. He looked out over Cascade, a slight breeze ruffling his hair. His throat burned; a tight band wound around his chest.
"This was wrong. Just so wrong."
"I know, Chief-" Jim started, but he interrupted.
"We see a lot of shit, man, I know that. But this - she was killed because of us. Because of me. Because she was my student." He knew his eyes were red from rubbing them. They burned. He'd cried enough at the funeral. He was too tired to cry any more.
"It wasn't your fault."
He gave a short laugh, entirely devoid of humor. "Of course not. Wasn't my hand on that knife, man. Doesn't change the fact that she was killed just to get your attention. Our fucking attention." He had the strongest urge to throw his beer bottle against the wall, and set it down slowly instead. No sense wasting his energy on cleaning up broken glass. He whirled around and started to punch the brick wall instead, and was suddenly thrown off balance as a hand grabbed his wrist and jerked him back. "Wha-"
"Blair! God, stop it!" Jim pulled him up against his chest and he sagged against him, accepting the quiet stability of his partner's embrace.
"He's gone," Jim whispered. "We got him. And he's dead. It's over, Blair. We couldn't save Jenny, but he won't be hurting anybody else. He's gone."
Jim held him, his arms tight around his shoulders, and all Blair's anger seemed to drain away, leaving only the weight in his chest and a sudden wave of exhaustion. "Yeah, he's gone. But so is Jenny."