ding-dong

Jim stepped back a little after ringing Carolyn’s doorbell. He glanced behind him briefly, then turned back with a smile as the door swung inward. “Hey Caro,” he said congenially. His ex-wife smiled at him, and Jim felt a tiny twinge, just a small hint of what had once been blinding love for the woman.

“Hi there, Jimmy,” Carolyn replied warmly, taking Jim’s arm and tugging him forward. “I’m so glad…,” her welcome trailed off abruptly as she spotted the smaller figure lurking in Jim’s shadow. “…to see you,” she finished lamely.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Jim heard Blair shifting restlessly from one foot to the other behind him, and suddenly realized introductions were in order. “Oh!”

He turned and guided Blair forward by the shoulder. “Carolyn Plummer, meet Blair Sandburg,” the sentinel said. “He’s the civilian that was responsible for helping us nail the Switchman today.” Jim patted the young man on the back, beaming at his ex-wife.

“Hi,” Carolyn said, smile frozen on her face. “So nice to meet you Bl… Mr. San… Umm….”

“Blair’s fine, ma’am,” Sandburg offered with a more sincere smile, reaching for Carolyn’s hand. She offered it hesitantly, and he pumped it up and down with a little more enthusiasm than was really necessary.

Jim was watching the proceedings with a growing feeling of unease. What was going on here? Carolyn was turning into an Ice Queen right before his eyes. She’d seemed so warm and inviting on the bridge, asking them to dinner… HIM to dinner. Oh shit.

Carolyn pulled her hand away from the energetic hippie darkening her doorstep, a scowl beginning to form on her face. That “ma’am” irked her, even though she was pretty sure the boy meant no disrespect. And just who the hell was this boy anyway? Why had he hooked up with her hus… ex-husband? This was supposed to be a romantic dinner for she and Jim, and now here was this little punk ruining everything.

Jim made the next move, ushering Blair into the apartment and closing the door behind them. He was about to apologize, as tactfully as possible, for bringing along an extra guest without calling first. Then he saw Carolyn’s eyes narrow, her gaze directed at the hand he still had upon his new partner’s shoulder. He quickly removed the hand, as if burnt, and saw Sandburg glance up at him with uncertainty.

“Well!” Carolyn said with false brightness. “Guess we have a crowd, don’t we?” She turned to head into the kitchen, gesturing casually toward the living room. “Please, come right in, make yourselves at home. I’ll just be in the kitchen trying to divide two steaks into three portions.” With that, she disappeared through the swinging door. Soon the sound of pots being forcefully set down on the stove top rang through the small living area.

Blair blinked, then grimaced slightly. “Oooh,” he whispered, “Jim, I really appreciate your inviting me to dinner, but I don’t think Ms. Plummer was expecting me.”

“No, I guess not,” Jim replied softly. He was tuned in to his ex-wife in the kitchen, and his face darkened as he picked up the words “little twerp” and “stupid hippie” as she muttered to herself. Perhaps he was wrong to have brought Blair along, assuming that he would be welcomed. But Carolyn was acting absolutely venomous, and Ellison didn’t like it one bit.

“Chief,” Jim began, turning toward his partner and picking up their jackets from the back of the couch. He was about to tell his partner to wait in the hall, intending to give his ex-wife an earful about manners, when there was a shriek from the kitchen. A loud crash followed, and Jim was halfway through the swinging door before the echo died.

“Caro, y’OK?”

“Ms. Plummer? What happened?”

Carolyn was covered with steak juice. Dark red streaks ran down the front of her once-immaculate white blouse, bleeding into the soft green of her skirt. On the floor, scattered about her feet were the broiler pan, still smoking, two half-cooked steaks and a small army of new potatoes. The forensics expert was sucking on the fingers of her right hand, tears welling in her eyes.

“Dammit,” she mumbled around her fingers. “The pot holder slipped, and I…,” she broke off as she took in her ruined dinner. “Well so much for the steak. I guess I could make a salad or…,”

“Can I see?”

Carolyn glanced up in surprise as Blair gently took her hand and studied the burns on her fingertips. His touch was soft and gentle, not clumsy like she had been expecting. Why had she been expecting it, anyway? She didn’t say a word as he gently coaxed her over to sink and began to run cool water over her stinging fingers.

Jim watched his ex-wife with a barely suppressed grin as he cleaned up the mess on the floor. This Sandburg kid certainly seemed to have a way with the ladies; Carolyn was speechless, doe-eyed as she watched the young man’s face. The sentinel turned his attention back to his task, scooping up the dirty meat and dumping it into the trashcan.

Blair finished washing Carolyn’s fingers and glanced around for a towel. He snatched a paper one from the wall-mounted roller and wrapped it around her hand. The small collection of plants on the windowsill caught his eye, and he pointed to the tiny aloe nestled in the corner.

“May I?” he asked. She nodded mutely, gazing at him with something close to awe. He shrugged it off as he reached out, snapping off a small portion of the plant. Taking her hand again, he squeezed the clear, thick juice out of the pulpy frond and applied it to the reddened skin.

Carolyn just watched, silent, as she was tended to with more care then she’d ever received from a practiced medic. Sandburg was incredibly gentle as he applied the cooling natural gel to her skin, then carefully wrapped the hand in a roll of gauze that Jim had retrieved from her medicine chest. She half expected him to kiss her hand, and was almost disappointed when he didn’t.

Jim looked around the kitchen as Blair finished his task, checking for anything he might have overlooked. He leaned over and flipped the broiler off, then checked his watch.

“Hey,” he said, clapping his hands together, ‘What do you say we go out to eat instead? I think Guilliano’s is open all night on Fridays, and it’s just two blocks away. You guys game?” he raised his eyebrows as Blair and Carolyn turned to him.

“Yeah sure, sounds great to me,” Blair said with a smile. “You up to it, Carolyn?” he asked of his patient.

“Um…sure,” she replied, still slightly dazed.

*********

Later that night the trio sat in Jim’s living room. Beers had been distributed, and a warm feeling of friendship had replaced the coldness from earlier in the evening. They shared stories with each other, many revolving around the events of the Switchman case.

Carolyn had been watching her ex all night. If she didn’t know better, she wouldn’t have believed that Jim had met Blair Sandburg less than a week ago. The two of them already seemed closer than Ellison usually got, even to people he’d known for years. It just wasn’t in the detective’s nature to let people into his heart. She should know, she’d been one of the ones to be shut out.

But now here she sat in Jim’s yellow club chair, watching her ex-husband and his new partner seated side by side on the couch. Blair seemed to be running out of steam; his eyelids were at half-mast, and his head kept bobbing lower and lower each time before snapping back up. Jim kept nudging him each time he started to sag, but was having less effect each time.

“Chief, go home,” Jim said. He received a sleepy nod in reply right before Blair’s head lolled against the back of the couch, eyelids losing the fight and fluttering down to stay. Jim chuckled softly and turned to smile at Carolyn.

“Kid doesn’t know when to quit,” he said affectionately. “I’ve watched him fall asleep at the computer, cutest thing you ever saw.” Jim imitated his partner, typing while letting his head droop forward. When his forehead connected with the imaginary keyboard, “BEEEEP!” He sat up, a mock-startled look on his face. “What? What happened?” he asked in a fair imitation of Blair’s voice as he glanced quickly around.

Carolyn had a hand pressed to her mouth to stifle her laughter, not wanting to wake up the brunt of their mirth. But Blair was apparently down for the count, as was proven when he slumped sideways. His head dropped onto Jim’s shoulder, curls falling to cover has face. Jim turned his head and gazed down at the young man with a look of unmistakable fondness that warmed Carolyn’s heart.

“Well, maybe I should head out.” The forensics woman stood and stretched, watching as Jim carefully slid out from under the sleeping student. He carefully leaned Blair back against the couch before standing and escorting her to the door. As she put on her jacket, she looked once more toward the couch.

“He doesn’t have a car, does he?” She grinned as she remembered Sandburg mentioning something about his Corvair and ‘her’ mechanic having a torrid affair behind his back. “Would you like me to drop him off for you?” She looked up at Jim, once more admiring the sharp planes of his face when he turned his head to study his partner.

“Mmmm....” Jim seemed to think it over for a long time. “No...I’d rather not disturb him tonight Caro. He doesn’t seem to sleep much as it is.” He turned to smile at her, shrugging a little. “And I have to admit, after that close call today...I guess I kinda want him close.” He raised his eyebrows, leaning in a little. “You know?” he added hesitantly.

Carolyn just stared at the man she had once divorced, slowly shaking her head as a grin spread across her lips. She closed her eyes and chuckled, leaning forward to plant a soft, innocent kiss on Jim’s cheek. When she drew back, the big man was eyeing her with what looked like a mixture of suspicion and amusement.

“What’s so funny?”

She sighed. “You are,” she replied, punching him lightly on the arm. “You have the whole city fooled you know. Everyone thinks you’re this hard-assed, curmudgeony, emotionless cop....But I know the truth.” She winked at the bemused detective as she turned on her heel, pulling the door open and sauntering out. Just before the door closed she stuck her head back in.

“You, James Ellison, are a marshmallow.” She gave a little squeal as he growled at her, but saw the smile on his face right before the door clicked shut. She listened for a moment, and heard Jim speaking quietly to himself, followed by a chuckle. Then, not wishing to intrude on his privacy, she turned and went down the hall to the elevator, her step lighter than it had been in months as she pondered the wondrous change in detective James Ellison.

*****

“Marshmallow, eh?” Jim murmured as he turned away from the door. “I suppose I can live with that.” He stuck his hands into his pockets and looked around his home, his gaze settling on Blair. Crossing to stand in front of the couch, Jim knelt and studied his sleeping guest. Asleep, Sandburg looked about fifteen years old. And absolutely angelic. A Boticelli painting in living, breathing flesh and blood.

Ellison shook himself and quickly straightened, turning to collect the empty beer bottles decorating the coffee table. Blair had downed three of them himself, which no doubt was part of the reason he was currently sawing wood on the detective’s couch. The kid was so thin, his tolerance was bound to be very low.

After washing out the bottles and setting them quietly in the recylables bin, Jim returned to his place on the couch to watch the late news. He turned the volume down as low as he could to avoid disturbing his partner. A few minutes later he was somewhat involved in the week’s weather forecast, but still very aware of the warmth beside him.

The news went off, and Jim changed the channel. He grinned when he found the very end of Independence Day on his movie channel. He’d watch the Earthlings claim victory against the alien invaders before bed. Maybe it would give him good dreams.

Half an hour later Randy Quaid was sacrificing himself to blow up the alien ship, and Blair had once again slumped against Jim’s side. The big man shifted slightly, stretching his arm across the back of the couch and letting the curl-covered head settle in the crook of his shoulder, pressed against his pectoral. Almost unconsciously, his hand found its way into the umber curls, nestling and weaving slowly through the silken strands.

Soon the credits were rolling, and Jim snapped the remote control up to turn off the TV. The silence was deafening. No, not silence, he realized. There was a steady, lulling beat thudding rhythmically in time with a slight vibration against his side. With a slight start, the sentinel realized he was hearing and feeling Blair’s heartbeat. A serene smile flowed across his chiseled features as he relaxed further, leaning into the gentle, calming beat.

He pulled himself back from the brink of a zone-out with a small gasp. That had been too close. He blinked, shaking his head slightly to clear the fuzz away. If he’d zoned while Blair was asleep.... Ellison decided it was time for bed. He reached around to lift Blair’s curls up, and studied the young face.

“Oh yeah, you’re out,” Jim chuckled. Slipping his arm from around the narrow shoulders, he eased Blair down onto his side on the couch, attentively cradling the curly head until it rested on the cushions. When he was sure Blair would be comfortable for a few minutes, Jim stood and went into the small extra bedroom that lay just off the kitchen.

The moment he swept the dividing curtain aside, Jim sneezed. The room was quite dusty. After all, hardly anyone had stepped foot inside the makeshift storeroom for months now. The furniture in the tiny cell consisted of an ancient futon with a moth-eaten coverlet, a small end table and lamp, and a ratty, dirty scrap that used to be a woven throw rug. All this was interspersed with boxes of all sizes, stuffed with old things belonging either to him or Carolyn.

He nudged the boxes aside to form a path to the futon, then reached down and peeled back the covers, folding them down at the foot of the tiny bed. he fluffed the scrawny pillow and set it in place, then turned and went back into the living room. He crossed to the couch where Blair was snoring ever so slightly, still in the same position Jim had left him in.

Kneeling beside the couch, the detective carefully slid his hands under Blair. The young man tensed, letting out a small whimper. His hands fluttered around briefly and settled in a loose hold on Jim’s shirtfront. Ellison paused until Sandburg went still again, then smiled and gently gathered him into his arms, cuddling the student against his chest. Whispering soft reassurances to his sleeping cargo as he slowly got to his feet, he headed slowly toward the small bedroom. In his sleep, Blair turned his head to press his face into Jim’s chest, and the stoic cop felt a glimmer of warmth from head to toe.

Sweeping the curtain aside with one foot, Jim maneuvered himself sideways through the door. He eased his smaller partner down onto the futon with all the gentleness of a doting father, carefully removing the clinging hands from his shirt to fold Blair’s arms across his chest. The young man murmured something unintelligible before snuggling down into the meager bedding. Still smiling tenderly, the sentinel removed the ratty sneakers and tugged the covers up and tucked them around the anthropologist’s chin.

Once his guest was settled, Jim sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over him. He reached out, hesitated briefly, then brushed his fingertips across Blair’s forehead. The youngster gave a blissfully contented-sounding sigh and turned his face into the touch. Jim’s heart melted. He swallowed hard and quickly removed his hands as an unusual feeling swept over him.

“What are you doing, Ellison?” he breathed out loud. He’d only known this, this...almost-child for barely a week and yet.... He knew, somehow, that they would never be apart again. He knew it with every cell in his hyper-sensitive body. It was as if by sitting here watching over Blair as he slept, Jim was activating a series of connections between their souls, joining them in a bond for all eternity.

He ran his knuckles once more across a pale cheek and moved to stand up, intending to go to bed himself. Halfway to the door he stopped short, turned, and stared at his sleeping partner. Slowly he came back to the bedside, eyes traveling over the sweet face and outline of the slim body hidden under the coverlet. He sank to his knees beside the futon, leaning forward to rest his folded arms on the mattress beside Blair’s head. His head sank down until his chin lay on his arms, and he just sat there, watching.

“Who are you?” The faint whisper seemed to echo through the tiny area. “Why did you come to me? How did you know...that you were exactly what I needed?” Too many questions to be asked. It would have to wait until morning. For now, they would sleep.

As quietly and stealthily as he could manage, Jim lifted the edge of the coverlet and slipped underneath, settling himself in the narrow bed beside Blair. He laid down, using his folded arm as a pillow, and gazed at the younger man’s childlike profile up close. After a moment, Blair moaned slightly, and rolled toward him. The detective stiffened as the smaller figure snuggled up to him in his sleep, one slender hand creeping up from the cavern of covers to settle against Jim’s chest. Then the anthropologist gave a happy sigh, smiled, and relaxed back into deep slumber.

Ellison relaxed as well, and reached out to wrap his arms loosely around his new young partner. Totally on impulse, he lowered his face and pressed a kiss against the smooth, rounded brow. Then he tugged the covers up tighter around both of them and let the gentle sound of his friend’s heartbeat lull him to sleep.

“Goodnight Sandburg. I love you.”

The End

THE END