Back to How It Used to Be

Author’s Note: This story is an epilogue to Crashing Into Forgiveness and is dedicated with my deep love and appreciation to Sponge, who suggested Crashing had an unfinished feel and asked for an epilogue. It is recommended that you read that one first, but it’s not necessary to follow along with the events here. I make no ownership claim on the characters in this story - just borrowing them for a bit to clean up the mess PetFly left behind ;) Comments always welcome.

It was late. What the MCU officers had intended to be a short visit with their convalescing captain had turned into an all-evening event when the lonely and bored Simon had put the Jags game on and ordered pizza. Brown made a beer run for those currently not on antibiotics or pain medication, and hours of lively banter and wagering had passed before they knew it.

As Jim returned home, much later than he’d anticipated, he found the loft dark and quiet. A fact that didn’t surprise him since he hadn’t seen his roommate’s Volvo parked outside. But as he locked the door behind him and hung up his coat, he began to realize that the place was empty of more than just life. A suspicion grew in his mind and a thread of fear snaked up his spine. Limping across the living room, he pushed the French doors open to the room under the stairs and that fear was immediately confirmed. Everything had been cleared out, and all that remained was an envelope and a set of keys on the stripped futon.

Jim stepped out of the shower and toweled off, feeling relaxed in body if not in mind. He’d read the letter several times, trying to comprehend the words it contained. Blair had carefully and meticulously laid everything out for him. All the reasons why he couldn’t become a police detective and why their formerly successful partnership could no longer work. How he wasn’t angry or upset, but logical and accepting of the turn of events. And the motivations behind his decision to leave, and why it was better for the both of them in the long run. The arguments were all there, spelled out plainly so he’d understand. But Jim didn’t understand. He couldn’t wrap his head around what had spurred his partner to sever his ties and move on. Maybe the end of his academic career was enough to kick start his wanderlust. After all, Blair Sandburg was the nomadic Naomi’s child. But whatever the reason, it was clear Blair was gone. He left no word as to where he was going, and no assurances that he would return someday, or even keep in touch. True, he didn’t say he *wouldn’t*, but there was a sense of finality about his missive. Blair was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

“But that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” a little voice inside the sentinel’s head whispered. Jim considered it as he got dressed. In a way, it was what he’d been working for over the past few months. He’d been subtly pushing Sandburg away and not protesting when he started spending more time at Rainier. They still hung out and Blair still helped at the station, but it was to a lesser degree than he used to. More importantly, Jim had been emotionally distancing himself. Trying to lower his dependence on his guide’s leadership, and his friend’s companionship. Because seeing Blair dead that horrible day at Rainier had almost destroyed him, and he never wanted to feel pain like that again. It was a measure of self preservation, to slowly start the extraction so that when the inevitable parting came, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

And it wasn’t entirely a selfish act, Jim argued with himself as he climbed the stairs to the loft. The distancing was for Sandburg’s benefit as well. A way to remove him from the dangers of police life. Keep him safe from bullets and explosions and maniacs. They’d stuck together, and look what happened. The kid had ended up declaring himself a fraud and trashing his whole career. Maybe if Jim had pushed him away sooner, then Blair wouldn’t have had to give up everything he’d spent his life working for to protect him.

“So,” the little voice in his head whispered as he curled up in bed. “Maybe his leaving is a good thing. Maybe it’s better for everybody this way.”

But the sentinel’s heart couldn’t agree. Even if he had wanted Blair removed from his life, he never wanted it to happen this way.

Jim woke up in a cold sweat. That damn dream again. The wolf, shot with his arrow, morphing into Blair.

“What do you want from me?” Ellison growled, not sure who he was talking to. There was no way he could hurt Blair when he wasn’t even there. Unless... Jim sat up, running a hand over his face. He’d pushed Blair away once before and Sandburg had ended up dead. And then he’d done it again, and Blair once more, in a sense, lost his life. Jim had always seen this “vision” as a warning, even if he didn’t understand it. But for the first time he began to wonder if he had it all wrong. Maybe he was only endangering his guide by pushing him away and shutting him out. Maybe the real danger wasn’t by his side, but out there, alone. Well, he wasn’t willing to risk it.

Climbing out of bed, wincing at the stiffness in his injured leg, Ellison quickly got dressed. Technically he was still on medical leave, but he shrugged into his coat and grabbed his wallet and keys and headed down to his truck to go to the station. It was barely dawn, but the determined detective had work to do.

He had to find Blair, before it was too late.

Ellison sighed and reached out a hand, turning his computer off in a weary gesture of defeat. He’d exhausted all his resources and had come up with nothing. There was no paper trail to be found. Wherever Blair had gone, he wasn’t paying his way with plastic. The contacts Jim knew about didn’t have anything for him. Not even the elusive Naomi, who he’d managed to somehow track down. Blair hadn’t discussed his plans with her, but that didn’t diminish her glee upon receiving the news that her son had given up his place with the “pigs”. She was sorry about the damage to their friendship, she told him, but she couldn’t help thinking Blair needed some “space”. He had grown too close and was starting to “lose himself” within Jim’s life. Well, maybe she had a point but Jim couldn’t see it. Not when Blair’s life might be in danger. He even put out an APB on the Volvo, but that didn’t bring him any information either. Long after he’d done all he could, he’d sat at his desk. Not willing to give up, sure, but also not willing to go home to an empty apartment. Where the silence he used to crave was now deafening and disturbing. With nothing to do but sit and wait for the phone to ring. Bringing news of an accident. Or a disaster. Or the fact that Blair, as he so had a knack of doing, had ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But it was late and he could no longer stall. So Jim struggled into his coat and left the station, driving home in the dark and realizing he hadn’t eaten all day, apart from a couple of snacks from the vending machine and multiple cups of coffee. But he wasn’t really hungry, either, so he went straight for the loft, intent on calling it a night. As he pulled into the lot across from his building and parked, Ellison realized for the first time how wrong he’d been. The distancing and severing of ties that he’d been so carefully crafting had been a waste of time. There was no distancing himself from Blair Sandburg. The man who was his guide. His partner, standing beside him through the bad times, and celebrating with him the good. The man who was his friend, the best one he’d ever had, who he loved like a brother. He couldn’t let that go, not even if he wanted to. And, Jim belatedly realized as he climbed out of the truck and entered the building, he didn’t want to. Their relationship wasn’t perfect and had definitely had its share of ups and downs, but the two of them were just better together and even if it meant not having to dodge friendship landmines here and there, Blair’s leaving could never make either of them any happier.

The sentinel was so wrapped up in his own exhaustion and worry and despair that he’d blown yet another second chance with his friend that he wasn’t focused on his surroundings. Which is why he was caught off guard when he stepped off the elevator and found Sandburg camped out by the door.

Ellison was stunned speechless as he limped toward the loft, watching as Blair got to his feet, offering him a tentative, sheepish smile.

“Hey.”

“I thought you left.” Yeah, nice greeting, the detective chastised himself. Instead of telling his friend how good it was to see him and how glad he was that Blair was safe... those cold words were the ones that came spewing out of his mouth.

“I was going to,” Blair began quietly. “But the further away I got, the more it just felt.... wrong. Like I was running away, and I couldn’t go, Jim. Not like this. I know you’re probably pissed at me, but I was hoping that we could talk it over.”

Ellison didn’t answer, but he unlocked the door and held it open in invitation. Sandburg picked up the two bags at his feet and brought them inside, but he set them down by the door and hovered in the entranceway, a touch nervously. Jim slid out of his coat and hung it up, glancing at his friend who was fidgeting and seemingly at a loss for words, for once in his life. The sentinel sighed, realizing it was now or never and he forced out the words that were in his heart.

“I’m glad you came back,” he said softly.

Blair relaxed a little at his words, maybe in relief that the conversation was not starting out with a hostile tone.

“I had to,” he told the detective, meeting his gaze. “But to be honest, Jim, I don’t know what to do now that I’m here. I don’t know how to fix things.” Sandburg hung his head, his long curls obscuring his face. “I don’t know how to fix us,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to do with my life, and I don’t know where I belong anymore.”

“I wish I had some answers for you, Chief,” Ellison spoke, feeling a deep sadness at what his friend was going through. “But I can tell you this. You belong here. Home, with me.”

Sandburg looked up sharply, cocking a sardonic brow at him.

“I know I haven’t given you a lot of reason to believe that lately,” the sentinel quickly amended himself. “But I haven’t been thinking too clearly. That’s hard to do when you’ve got your head up your ass.”

Blair started to grin, but bit it back.

“What are you talking about?”

“I guess I’m saying that when all is said and done, despite how crazy you can make me, you’ve always brought out the best in me, Blair. And maybe it’s taken me longer than it should have to realize it, but I don’t want you to leave. Not ever, but especially not like this.”

“I think we brought out the best in each other, Jim,” Sandburg said slowly. “But I also can’t help thinking that maybe we brought out the worst in each other, too.”

“I brought out the worst in myself,” Ellison argued.

“Maybe, but what happened between us wasn’t all your fault. We both made mistakes, and we’ve both done things we have to answer for. There’s a lot of unfinished business we’re going to have to talk about.”

“You’re right,” Jim agreed. “But it’s late, and I don’t think either one of us is in any shape to get into this now. Why don’t we just call it a night? You’re home, and that’s good enough for now. We can talk tomorrow.”

Blair nodded and finally removed his jacket, albeit somewhat hesitantly. He hung it up and picked up one of his bags, slinging it over his shoulder as he began heading for the room under the stairs. But then his steps faltered, and he slowly turned back to his friend.

“Jim? We CAN get past this, right?”

The sentinel looked into the beseeching blue eyes of his guide, his own heart aching as he read the heartbreak there. Over the years he had seen those eyes reflecting fear. It was only natural, given some of the situations he’d put the kid into. And some of the situations Sandburg had managed to get himself into. But he’d never before seen this kind of terror. Blair, the eternal cockeyed optimist, had lost hope. He was scared that the damage was beyond repair. That everything they’d once had was lost, never to be found. And that the hurts and betrayals were too great to be let go and forgiven. That they were scarred beyond healing.

Ellison’s jaw clenched slightly, then he relaxed. He couldn’t give the kid everything he wanted. Not just yet. It was going to take a lot of work and a lot of time to make things right. For both of them. But in the meantime, he could at least give Blair back his hope. Jim didn’t have faith in much, but he’d always had it in abundance wherever his partner was concerned.

“Yeah, Chief,” he said gently, his own steely blue eyes softening with sincerity and reassurance. “We’ll find a way past this. Together, we’ll find a way to fix everything.”

Blair sagged slightly in relief, the tension physically draining away from him. He smiled and nodded before resuming his path to his room, pausing in the doorway to bid his friend a good night.

Jim was suddenly overcome with weariness. An emotional exhaustion that left him too beat to climb the stairs to the loft. Instead, he had a seat on the couch and pulled the letter out of his pocket.

“Hey Jim. I’m sorry to do this to you in a note...”

Ellison smiled slightly. Only the overly loquacious Sandburg would consider nine pages a “note”. He went back to the letter, but he barely had to read it for he’d mostly had it memorized by now. Jim scanned the words, so clear cut and logical and intellectual, but for the first time he was able to see the pain concealed in the missive. A pain that rivaled his own. There was a lot to fix, but it wasn’t beyond repair. Somehow, they were going to get through this, and come out the better for it on the other side. Tossing the letter back down on the table, Jim curled up on the couch, finding his own tenseness draining away as he drifted into a visionless sleep, comforted by the familiar heartbeat thudding behind the French doors.

The healing had begun.

Finis

The Sandburg Zone

Cascade Library