Ryf looked over at his partner and rolled his eyes. Jim had been sitting quietly for the past couple hours with the goofiest grin on his face. The younger detective wasn't really surprised, Blair's flight arrived at 11:55 PM, but with the three hour time difference, he would be taking off relatively soon. He couldn't ever recall seeing Jim this anxious before, Ryf would have sworn that he could actually feel the anticipation rolling off the older man in waves.
"Jesus, Ellison, calm down," Ryf said in mock exasperation as he indulged the Sentinel with a smile. Truth be told, he was looking forward to seeing the anthropologist again himself. Over the course of the four years Blair spent working as an observer, Ryf had formed a friendship with the other man. However, it wasn't until he replaced Blair as Jim's partner that he realized just how remarkable the anthropologist was.
It seemed that Jim used his Sentinel abilities each day in some new way that amazed him. It had taken some time to get used to working with Ellison, the man could be exasperating as hell at times; especially when one of his senses went haywire. Dealing with an irritable Sentinel wasn't the easiest job in the world under the best of circumstances, but at least Ryf had Blair's dissertation and notes to work from. Ryf could remember being absolutely floored when he learned that the Sentinel and his Guide had learned everything they knew about Jim's senses by trial and error.
It was no wonder that they were so close, despite Jim's habit of remaining emotionally distant. Only someone with Blair's combination of kindness, patience, and tenacity would have stuck by the older man's side through the initial onset of his senses. Ryf could still recall hearing about Ellison's temper, not to mention his weird behavior during the Switchman case, back when he was a patrolman.
He remembered the all the gossip that ran through the station when Blair had first been granted observer status, not to mention how much it grew out of control when the younger man moved into Jim's loft. Ryf had never believed a word of the rumors of Ellison and Sandburg being lovers. It was ludicrous, both of them were obviously devoutly straight. Besides, even if it was true, it was none of his business, anyway.
No, Ryf understood better than most why the two men were so close. First, there was the covert reason, the Sentinel thing. However, even before he became aware of that aspect of Jim Ellison, Ryf knew that the older man was very careful when he chose his friends. God help anyone that threatened someone that Jim cared for; but even God couldn't help anyone or anything that threatened Blair Sandburg. Ryf had heard the joke about the Sentinel being the anthropologist's Blessed Protector, and personally, he thought the title didn't even begin to cover Jim's primal ferociousness when it came to Sandburg's safety.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ryf saw Jim check his watch. Their replacements were expected at any minute, and they were both more than ready to call it a day. Weeks of monotonous and boring of a stakeouts were enough for anybody.
Brown and Myers pulled up in another unmarked sedan. They watched the dark-skinned detective pick up his cell phone and dial. Jim's own cellular rang a second later. As soon as they finished the short conversation, the partners were on their way back to the loft.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
December 23rd 5:21 PM
//Please come home for Christmas,
Please come home for Christmas.
If not for Christmas, by New Year's night//
Brown and Myers' tardiness set Jim behind schedule for the rest of the afternoon. It was going to be a busy night, what with having dinner with Steven and then picking up Blair at the airport. No matter what he tried, the Sentinel couldn't wipe the dopey grin that he was sporting off his face. Only a few more hours to go before he would be reunited with Blair.
Ryf couldn't help shooting a matching grin at his partner's ill-concealed anticipation. As they pulled up in front of the loft, the younger man couldn't help but tease his partner. "Careful, Ellison. You keep smiling like that and your face might freeze. Man, I never knew you had so many teeth!"
Any other time, Jim would have gifted his partner with either a sarcastic comment or a fierce glare, but not today. There was nothing that could spoil the feeling of elation that kept him walking on air. "Just keep it up, Ryf," Jim said as he shook his head and closed the car door. The younger man honked the horn as he drove off, leaving the Sentinel to make his way into the building.
The elevator deposited him on his floor, and he made quick work of the door locks. Jim needed to haul ass if he wanted to be on time to meet Steven across town. Even though his Sentinel sight compensated for the darkness of the room, he still reached for the light switch next to the door, barely remembering in time to close his eyes before he flipped it on.
The wash of light throughout the room registered behind the closed lids. The Sentinel was careful to open his eyes slowly, allowing his sensitive optic nerves time to adjust to the brightness of the two floor lamps and the 400 small white bulbs that adorned not only the large Christmas tree, but each of the balcony windows as well.
The room really did look beautiful, even if he did say so himself. When the detective lived by himself after his divorce, the only Christmas decorating he ever bothered with was throwing a wreath up on the door. The first two years Blair lived at the loft, he respected Jim's wishes "not to clutter the place up." That request was honored up until last year, when Blair and Naomi decreed that the place would benefit from some holiday cheer. Not much for decorating, Jim did his best to recreate the festive room that mother and son had put together last year.
As Jim looked around, he was drawn in by the sight of the tiny white lights reflecting against the glass. He remembered how furious he had been when Blair drove nails into the window frames to support the lights last year. Once that memory returned, it unleashed a flood of others, and Jim willingly let himself be swept away by his thoughts of Christmas last year.
~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been late November when Blair suggested that they have a 'family' holiday, and with Steven finally back in his life, Jim happily agreed. Naomi and Steven were both surprised and delighted to accept their invitations. A few weeks later, Blair's mother arrived on the first day of Hanukkah, which fell relatively late on the calendar that year. Jim was truly honored when both mother and son invited him to take part in the lighting of the menorah, and he listened carefully to the history and significance of the holy days.
With only a three days to go before Christmas, it was Naomi who finally commented on the lack of decorations in the loft. Both Sandburgs were horrified when they discovered that the older man didn't own a single bulb, ornament, or string of tinsel for that matter. In deference to his mother's wishes, the anthropologist grabbed the detective by the arm and literally dragged Jim down to the nearest Wal-Mart to stock up on what seemed like every type of decoration conceivable.
At the store, their normal bickering escalated into a playful argument over the color of the lights. Ever the minimalist, Jim wanted them all to be white, while Blair preferred the more festive multicolored strands. They finally solved the problem when Jim said that he would pay for the lights and the tree if his Guide purchased everything else.
As they walked back to the truck, the detective began to suspect that his roommate created the conflict in the store to get him into the Christmas spirit, and worst of all, the diversion had worked. Thirty minutes later and a $150 poorer, they made their way to the Policeman's Auxiliary League Christmas tree lot. A second argument started there when they disagreed over which was the "perfect tree."
"Oh, come on Jim, that's not tree, that's a shrub! There is absolutely no way we are taking home that sorry looking, half dead, Charlie Brown Christmas tree, man," Blair stated firmly as he held the tree he preferred. The sight of his smaller Guide being dwarfed by the nine foot Douglas fir in his hand was hysterical, but the Sentinel restrained himself, lest the younger man inquire as to what was so funny.
"Sandburg, they charge for these things by the damn foot. There's no way I'm shelling out that much money for something that is only going to be thrown out in another two weeks. Besides, what is it with you? I figured you'd rather chain yourself to a tree than buy one that has had it's life abruptly ended for, how did you put it again? Oh yeah, for 'an economically driven, commercialized, corrupted holiday,'" he quoted.
Blair gave the comment a mocking laugh and rolled his eyes. "Real cute, Jim. Look, these trees are commercially grown, man. The farms they raise them on replant every year, so each of these trees will have replacements. It's not like they are slash- burning rainforests or sawing down ancient redwoods for lumber. Besides, they collect the trees after the holidays for mulching. Recycling, man. Ain't it grand?"
Despite his best intentions not to buy the larger tree, Jim waffled at the puppy dog look on Blair's face. That particular expression had the same effect on him that kryptonite had on Superman -- one glimpse of it, and the Sentinel was rendered absolutely powerless. Clenching his jaw in annoyance, Jim reached for the stump of the tree, and tied it to the bed of his truck after he handed his roommate the money to pay for it. "Just remember that you're responsible for cleaning all the needles up in the loft and in my truck, Chief," he warned as they made their way home.
They called Steven, who was delighted to join them in trimming the tree. The two Ellisons spent much of the evening reminiscing about the few happy Christmases they shared before their mother left them. In return, both Sandburgs kept them laughing with some of their holiday horror stories. Jim and Blair were somewhat surprised, but nevertheless thrilled by how well Steven and Naomi got along, despite the glaring differences in their personalities. In fact, those same differences made for some pretty lively debates on every subject from music to taxation, but fortunately none of the discussions ever turned ugly or got out of hand. Jim and Blair kept giving each other sly smiles as they heard their relatives rehash topics that they themselves squabbled over from time to time. "It must be in the genes," his Guide whispered for his Sentinel's ears alone.
The next day, Steven and Naomi accompanied the partners to Simon's annual Christmas Eve party, and found themselves having a blast among the rowdy cops. It was late by the time they returned to the loft, and rather than drive back across town, Steven crashed on the other sofa in the living room. As he drifted off to sleep, Jim couldn't help but smile at the sounds of his brother and Guide whispering back and forth between their makeshift beds on the two couches. Never before had the loft been so full, and for the first time since he was a child, Jim finally felt as though he was a part of a real family again.
Blair and Naomi both rose early to begin cooking a magnificent feast for the four of them. As soon as the turkey went into the oven, they sat down to exchange presents. Jim was surprised to find that watching the others open the gifts he had meticulously chosen for them gave him more pleasure than unwrapping his own presents.
After a simple snack instead of lunch, Blair herded everyone downstairs under the pretense of 'weather testing' the new thermal gloves and coat that were a gift from his partner. Jim never even saw the first snowball come at him, and when he saw his younger brother grinning evilly, he could do no less than retaliate. It wasn't long before a full-blown snowball fight broke out, one where it was every person for him or herself.
They came in almost an hour later, frozen to the bone and soaking wet. After taking very quick turns in the shower and changing clothes, they all settled in front of the television. Naomi rolled her eyes as the others were sucked into the various football games on the tube. She couldn't help laughing at the sight of three grown men, all respected in their various fields, yelling at the screen like idiots as they armchair-quarterbacked the pro games.
Everyone pitched in for the last of the dinner preparations. Jim was surprised to find that Blair and Naomi had, for the most part anyway, stuck to traditional Christmas dishes; turkey, stuffing, yams, mashed potatoes, the works. Of course, it wouldn't have been a Sandburg meal if there wasn't a unrecognizable dish or two. Jim's jaw just about hit the table when Steven took second helpings of an Indonesian dish that Blair prepared, until he remembered that his little brother did a lot of traveling throughout the Pacific rim.
They spent the rest of the night listening to holiday music as they settled into the living room, exhausted from a combination of the busy day and turkey-enzyme-induced lethargy. There was a layer of snow and ice on the road, so his brother decided to once again stay the night. With Naomi already asleep, and Steven in the bathroom getting ready for bed, Jim and Blair were left alone in the living room. The younger man was sitting in front of the fireplace, staring unfocused into the flames with a small smile of contentment on his face.
Blair must have felt his Sentinel's eyes on him, because he spoke quietly without turning around. "Thanks, Jim."
"For what, Chief?" Jim asked, honestly puzzled.
There was a short pause while the younger man tried to put his feelings into words. A small shake of his head told the detective that Blair was unsuccessful at gathering his thoughts. "For...everything. For today, for yesterday, for the past two and half years."
A warm feeling encompassed the detective as he stared at his roommate's back. "Chief, I..." he trailed off as Blair's head shook again. Slowly, the younger man rose and moved to stand directly in front of him.
They stood there awkwardly for endless seconds. Pale blue eyes met turquoise as they both searched for the right thing to say at a time like this. It was Blair who broke the silence. "Merry Christmas, Jim," he said with the most tender smile Jim could ever recall gracing his face.
The Sentinel gave in to his impulse and pulled the younger man in for a hug. Jim couldn't remember another Christmas as enjoyable as this one. Without Blair's help over the past few years, he probably wouldn't even be alive, let alone more relaxed, happy with his life, and reconciled with his brother. He owed this man everything.
Merry Christmas, Blair," he replied and held on a little tighter.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The trilling of the cordless phone brought Jim back to the present. As he crossed the living room, the detective hazarded a glance at the clock on the VCR. He was going to have to haul ass if he wanted to be on time to meet Steven.
Thumbing the button, he spoke as he headed upstairs to lay out a change of clothing. "Ellison."
"Hey Jim," came the hesitant voice.
"Sandburg? What's up, Chief?" Jim asked somewhat nervously. There was something in Blair's tone that didn't set well with the Sentinel. From all the noise in the background, Jim knew that his Guide must be at the airport. He found himself praying that nothing was wrong.
"Um, Jim, I don't know how to tell you this..."
"Don't say it, Sandburg," Jim growled in warning, as his heart fell rapidly to somewhere in his lower abdomen.
"It's not my fault, man, I swear to God! I swear to every god! I got here two hours early, y'know? Just to be on the safe side! Two fucking hours, and they tell me that the flight was overbooked! I've been sitting here with a stand-by ticket in my hand, going to every damned counter, and not one airline has anything, and I do mean any possible connection," he paused, gasping for breath.
By the amount of agitation in his voice, the Sentinel knew that Blair was not only upset about the situation, but also at the end of his patience. "Okay, Blair, calm down. I'm sure that they'll be able to find another flight for you..."
"Haven't you seen the news yet? Turn on CNN, man." Blair waited until Jim got the remote and turned to the right channel. On the screen was a damaged airplane sitting on a runway, and the caption beneath the picture identified the airport as Washington DC's Dulles. "That's the problem, Jim. That plane had a bad landing a couple of hours ago. They're trying their best to handle the traffic on the other runways, but they're still having to reroute flights out of National and a couple of other airports. Richmond is only a couple of hours drive from Washington, and a lot of people are coming through here now."
Sighing in frustration, Jim felt an odd sense of deja vu, only last time he had been the one scrambling for a flight to get to Blair. "I don't know what to tell you, Chief. It shouldn't take too long for them to clear that runway at Dulles, though."
"Even if they do clear it, there are still a ton of flights that have been delayed or cancelled, man. This sucks! Wait a sec, Jim." The Sentinel focused his attention on the conversation between his Guide and a woman, who he guessed was a reservationist. "Did you hear that, Jim? She might have something going to Denver later, no connecting flight, though. Look man, I have to go, but I'll call you back as soon as I know anything definite, okay?"
Hope flared in the detective for the first time since he picked up the phone. "I'll be on the cell all night. And Chief, take any flight you can get, 'kay? I mean anywhere; Seattle, Portland, hell, Vancouver is only a seven hour drive. It doesn't matter where, I'll come get you."
Blair must have heard the steel determination in his voice, because the younger man's only response was spoken calmly and quietly. "Thanks Jim. I'll be there as soon as I can."
"I know you will, Blair."
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