Disclaimer: Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. No profit is being made from the posting of this story.

Acknowledgments: I would like to thank Marion for the plot bunny that got this story rolling, and Mary for her wonderful beta work.

Rating: G

Warnings: A couple uses of mild, PG language.

Summary: Jim and Blair reflect on their friendship after the loss of a colleague.

Comments welcome and appreciated!

It was the week before Thanksgiving. Jim stood in his dress blues next to Blair, who was uncomfortable in his pressed dark suit and starched shirt. The November winds blew through the trees, loosing the last of their leaves to flutter over the mahogany casket. The minister was giving the eulogy as the widow wept quietly at the graveside, her two young children at her side.

As the service ended, seven officers with rifles set off a volley of three shots -- a twenty-one-gun salute for the fallen officer. Detective Andrew Martinelli had been a good officer, a good husband, and a good friend. The majority of Major Crime had turned out to attend his funeral.

Even the heavy, steel-gray sky seemed to mourn the man's passing. As the rain began to fall, the crowd broke up, leaving the coffin to be lowered into the cold ground.

"Thank you for attending." Anita Martinelli paused to greet Jim as she passed, heading for the limousine that had brought her here. "Andy always spoke so highly of you."

"He was a good man, Anita," said Jim, resting a comforting hand on the widow's shoulder. "He'll be missed by all of us. If there's anything any of us can do for you, don't hesitate to call."

Anita nodded, mutely accepting the gracious offer as she herded her two boys into the waiting car.

+++++

The following week, an invitation arrived in the mail. Jim opened the envelope and read the note, frowning.

"What is it, Jim?" asked Blair, coming out from the bathroom with a robe wrapped around him and a towel in his still-damp hair.

Jim held out the card. "Anita Martinelli has invited us to share Thanksgiving dinner with her and the family."

Blair walked over and took the card, glancing at the script. "Are you going to go?"

"I don't know." Jim took a deep breath, and then sighed. "Andy was a good man, a good friend, but I don't know... I just don't feel comfortable."

"You did tell her to ask if there was anything you could do," Blair reminded his partner. "She might be hurt if you refuse."

"The invitation includes you," Jim pointed out. "Are you planning on going?"

Blair cast his eyes down at his bare feet, and then looked up with grim determination. "I think we should. Why don't you call and ask if there's anything we can bring?"

+++++

They arrived at the Martinelli home, not surprised to recognize a number of vehicles parked in the driveway and along the street. Dressed in their best suits, the two men got out of the truck and approached the door. As Jim raised a hand to knock, the door was thrown open in welcome.

"Come on in, Jim, you're late. Hi, Blair!" Joel Taggart greeted them.

"Hey, Joel!" Blair greeted his friend as he looked around for a place to set the bowl of cranberry salad they had brought as their offering to the dinner.

Anita, ever the gracious hostess, swept in to take the bowl and deposit it on the long buffet table in the dining room. "Jim, Blair... I'm so glad you could come." She guided her newest guests into the house. "We're having a celebration of Andy's life, a wake. He would have wanted it that way. He always hated to see us sad."

"Mommy! Mommy! Billy won't share the Nintendo!" Andrew, Jr., known as "Little Andy," came crying to his mother.

"You'll have to excuse me." Anita smiled at her guests and went to negotiate a peace settlement between the boys.

"She looks like it's been a hard week," Blair commented softly, referring to the black circles under Anita's eyes that even the makeup couldn't quite cover, and the gaunt, tired look on her smiling face.

"She just lost her husband," said Jim. "The boys probably don't even understand yet what's happened. They think daddy's gone away, but will come back someday."

"Maybe you should go talk with them," suggested Blair. "You sort of know how they feel, what with your mom leaving when you were still so young."

"Yeah, maybe," Jim agreed, his heart not really up to the task.

"What are you two doing still standing out here?" Megan Connor walked up to the pair and smiled. "Come on into the dining room and have something to eat. We're all reminiscing about Andy. Surely, you have a story to share?"

"Remember last year's Christmas party, where Andy revealed the amount collected in the annual toy drive?" Rafe volunteered. "It was our biggest yet -- over a thousand new toys to give to the homeless kids, and he's the one who arranged and managed the whole thing."

"The look on those kids' faces as Andy handed out the gifts was priceless!" Megan added. "Even if he was the skinniest Santa they'd ever seen." Soft chuckles sounded around the room at the memory.

"Or how about the Policeman's Ball?" Henri piped in. "Andy sold the most tickets and won a weekend trip to the coast. Lucky bastard. He always seemed to have this way about him --"

"He could charm the pants off just about anybody," Simon agreed. "But he was a good cop, too. I remember when Kincaid held the station hostage. Andy managed to slip several of the hostages out a side door to safety."

"And he was instrumental in helping with the Golden drug bust, too," Joel reminded them.

"He sat at my bedside in the hospital when Jim was forced to go home and rest," said Blair. "Andy was always there, no matter who needed him. I wasn't even a cop, but he cared enough to stay so that I wouldn't be alone if I woke up."

"He saved my life," Jim added softly.

"He did? When?" Blair asked, casting his thoughts back but coming up empty.

"It was before we met," Jim clarified. "I'd just lost my partner, Jack Pendergrast, and I was on a rampage -- a bit of a loose cannon," he admitted.

"Tell me about it," Simon growled. "I was afraid you were going to self-destruct."

"Yeah, but Andy was there," said Jim. "He partnered with me despite my temperament. We were working on a case involving an arms dealer. We'd broken into the warehouse and found a shipment of automatic weapons. I, of course, wasn't paying attention, as I should have been. I was too focused on the guns. The dealer almost got a drop on me, but Andy was there to take the guy out. I ended up with a flesh wound to the shoulder, but it could have been a lot worse."

"So, that's where that scar came from?" Blair pursed his lips and nodded, grateful that Jim had been spared.

The afternoon wore on with more reminiscing from the Major Crime detectives. Finally, as the party was beginning to wind down, Anita tapped a spoon against a wine glass to get everyone's attention.

"I want to thank everyone for coming here today," she said. "You don't know how much it means to me to hear all the wonderful stories about how my Andy touched your lives. It's something I'll carry in my heart for the rest of my life. I know it's not going to be easy raising our two boys by myself, but I'm not truly alone, am I, with you and all your memories to help sustain me." She smiled a genuine, warm smile as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "If you don't mind, I'd like to say a prayer." She waited until all heads were bowed. "Dear Lord, to Thee do we give thanks -- for this wonderful meal, for our friends, and for the life of Andrew Martinelli. May he rest safely in Your arms until we meet again in Heaven. Thank You for the memories and for the love he has left behind, and for gracing us with his presence for his time allotted here on Earth. Amen."

"Amen." The soft sound of many voices echoed around the room.

Jim guided Blair back out to the truck and they headed for home. Once there, Jim started a fire in the fireplace and grabbed a couple of beers from the refrigerator.

"That was a really nice wake, don't you think?" Blair asked, as the two men stood in front of the balcony doors sipping at the bottles and staring out at the choppy waves on the bay. "It was a good tribute to a good man."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "It made me think."

"Yeah?" Blair turned to look at Jim and grinned. "That can be dangerous, you know."

"Okay, smart mouth. Do you want to hear what I think, or not?" Jim asked teasingly.

"All right, all right." Blair held up his hands in mock defeat. "I'm listening."

"It made me think about the things I'm grateful for," Jim continued.

"And...?" Blair cocked an eyebrow when Jim paused.

"I realized how much you've come to mean to me, and how much I'd miss you if you were gone," Jim said quietly. "I'm thankful for all the help you've given me with my senses; always being there, even when I thought I didn't want you. I'm grateful for all you sacrificed to stay with me."

Blair blushed, covering his embarrassment with another swig of his beer. "It's what friends do for each other," he said modestly. "I can't count the number of times you've been there for me, saved my ass. In case I haven't said it recently; thanks, Jim. I guess something like this -- like the death of a friend and colleague -- makes you realize what's important in your life. You're important to me, Jim." He beamed a smile, his blue eyes dancing.

"Back at ya, Chief," Jim replied.

Lightly clinking their bottles together, the two men drank to friendship -- and to a life remembered.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!