No Greater Love
by Cheyenne

Simon Banks hung up the phone he had gripped tightly in his hand and silently thanked God once more for the news he had just received. The call had been from the hospital to let him know that Sandburg had regained consciousness an hour ago and was doing well. Simon would have asked to speak with Ellison, but he felt certain his detective would still be too emotionally closed off and worried about the young observer to answer his questions with any kind of impartiality.

After the surgery had concluded late last night, and the doctors had told them Sandburg had come through with flying colors but would remain asleep until morning, Simon had tried to convince Jim to go home and rest. As predicted, Jim had refused to leave. Looking back now, Simon wondered why he'd even wasted his breath. He knew Ellison wouldn't be budged from his partner's side until he was certain the kid would be okay.

Simon felt a chill run up his back as he remembered arriving on the scene of the incident the night before. The paramedics had still been stabilizing Sandburg before they moved him, and Jim had been kneeling at the head of the gurney, hands on either side of Blair's face as he spoke words of encouragement and comfort to his unconscious partner.

It had taken all of Simon's authoritative persuasiveness to convince Jim to step back and tell him what had happened while the medics finished their duties with Blair.

Halting sentences and half-mumbled responses had been all he'd been able to coax from his detective, but enough information had filtered through for the captain to understand that the simple questioning of a witness had ended with the near death of an innocent party, namely one Blair Sandburg.

Simon shook his head once more in regret. It shouldn't have happened, but it was a situation that could have occurred with any investigative team, even if both had been full-fledged police officers.

Simon knew Jim would be questioning the propriety of Sandburg being exposed once again to danger in the name of his research. He'd heard the arguments and counter-arguments in the past. In the end, he knew the ultimate decision would be made between Sandburg and Ellison... and more than likely, Ellison would relent and Sandburg would get his way.

The captain smiled in amusement. He'd seen Jim and Blair argue about all sorts of things during their three-plus years as partners. He'd seen Jim win and he'd seen Blair win, but he'd also taken note of the difference in the arguments each man would claim to have won. The kid definitely knew how to pick his fights.

A bedraggled figure emerging from the elevators caught Simon's eye. He was surprised, but watched in silence as Jim Ellison slowly made his way to his desk through the crowd of people in the bullpen and slumped heavily into his chair. The man was still wearing the same bloodstained clothes he'd had on after last night's shooting. Simon shook his head as Jim slowly booted his computer, exhaustion written in every move he made.

Given the news he had just received from the hospital, Simon would have thought if Jim had consented to leave Sandburg's side, it only would have been for a quick trip home to shower and change. The fact that Jim was here told him something was troubling his detective, something more than the close brush with death his partner had just experienced. Simon decided to give him a few minutes alone before he called him in for a discussion.

* * * *

Jim was only vaguely aware of the noise of the busy office surrounding him as he waited wearily for the computer to finish loading the form he needed for his report. After sitting beside Sandburg's hospital bed the entire night, his energy level was drained, and it was becoming more difficult to keep his senses at a manageable level. He knew he should go home, change and try to get some sleep, but the events of the previous night were eating at him and he couldn't close off their memory.

Yesterday's incident was supposed to have been a simple task of questioning a witness about a string of robberies that had been plaguing the city for over two months. He hadn't anticipated any trouble, but as he and Sandburg had stood with the subject, Malcolm Waverly, the man's brother had suddenly appeared from around a corner with a gun and taken aim at them. Jim had been concentrating on Waverly's heart rate and had been unaware of the brother's presence at first. Blair had apparently seen the man and the gun he held.

The cocking of the weapon had finally alerted Jim, and as he had turned to face the danger, a blur of motion had hit him in the chest and knocked him backwards. By the time he'd recovered from the unexpected assault and extricated his legs from beneath the weight across his lower body, the gunman had refocused his aim for another shot. Instinct had taken over, and Jim had brought his gun up and fired with deadly accuracy. Waverly's brother had fallen in a heap, dead before he hit the floor.

Jim's attention had split at that point between the possibility of his suspect taking action and Blair's unmoving body. It wasn't until after Jim cuffed the man that he had been able to turn his full attention to Sandburg.

The younger man remained face down and unmoving, and as Jim gently turned him to lie on his back, the coppery odor of blood assaulted the sentinel full force. The left side of Blair's shirt was covered in quickly cooling blood, and Jim sent up a silent prayer as he felt for and found a pulse. Briefly, Blair opened his eyes and smiled weakly at him. Jim felt his heart constrict at the amount of trust he saw reflected in the younger man's face just before he succumbed to unconsciousness once more.

In the distance Jim heard the first faint scream of sirens, but the blood still flowing from his partner's bullet wound held his attention. His eyes searched for something to stanch the flow of blood, until he finally had to settle for wadding up the edge of Blair's shirt and pressing it over the wound.

As the first unit arrived, Jim was grateful someone had called the police about the disturbance. He was doubly grateful when he recognized the officers who rushed from the vehicle. One of them quickly radioed for an ambulance while the other hurried forward with their first aid kit.

Jim finally had been able to slow the bleeding until the ambulance arrived and the paramedics took over, but Blair had not regained consciousness again until long after they'd arrived at the hospital.

He remembered attempting to give a report to Simon as they'd waited during the four long hours of surgery, but he was sure it wasn't anywhere near complete. Finally, the doctor had come to them with the news that Blair had come through the operation and -- barring any unforeseen complications -- would recover. The bullet had hit him high in the left shoulder, and there was some muscle damage that would require physical therapy and be particularly painful, but if all went well, he would go home within a week's time.

The doctor had suggested they go home and rest as he didn't anticipate his patient waking until morning, but Jim had refused. He remembered being insistent about needing to be there in case his partner regained consciousness, and the doctor had relented. Simon had left a bit later after finally given up in his own efforts to coax Jim into leaving.

When Blair had awakened a short while ago, Jim had been relieved -- but not to the degree he'd expected. His partner would recover, he was thankful for that, but he had questions that needed answers.

What had happened while he'd been questioning the suspect? How had the other man been able to get so close and Jim not hear him? Why had Sandbu....

Jim rubbed a hand across tired, bloodshot eyes. During the night, he'd finally come to the conclusion that he'd been focused on Waverly's vital signs to see if he had been telling the truth and, therefore, had completely missed the presence of the brother until it was too late. But, Blair heard him and he'd taken the bullet. Jim felt his anger override any trace of relief he felt as the relentless questions continued. Why had Sandburg jumped in front of him that way? Why had he purposely taken a bullet meant for Jim?

Images from the previous night began replaying before his eyes, mingling with things that had happened in the past. Kincaid's kidnapping of Blair was suddenly vivid once more, Zeller's shooting of the anthropologist came back with cold accuracy, and the most frightening image of all, David Lash's attempt to add Blair to his demented list of 'friends'. The normal sounds of the bullpen faded as the scenes replayed in an endless loop.

Jim's breathing slowed and he felt himself slipping further away from his surroundings. From somewhere he couldn't pinpoint, a far-off voice called to him, telling him to breathe. It wasn't Blair's voice, but it was familiar. One carrying an air of authority tinged just now with a hint of quiet desperation that made it impossible to ignore.

Gradually, he identified Simon's voice. "Jim? Come on, Ellison. Talk to me."

Jim shuddered as he made his way back from the zone-out. Taking a deep breath to clear the last vestiges of muddle from his mind, he turned to look at his captain.

"Finally," Simon breathed softly. "You okay, Jim?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." Sheepishly he looked up at his captain. "Sorry about that, Simon. I guess I'm just a little tired."

Simon softly scoffed. "No kidding." He took a step back toward his office and nodded his head for Jim to accompany him. "Come with me."

Jim preceded the bigger man into his office and waited quietly while Simon closed the door, poured coffee into two mugs, and handed one to him.

"You wanna tell me what's bothering you? I mean, besides the fact that your partner's in the hospital again?"

Jim took the offered cup and stared at him for a moment. He should have known he couldn't hide his worries from this man who was more than his captain, but he was unsure how to explain the emotions that were running through his mind. Sandburg's actions the previous night were confounding him, and he needed an explanation. Jim heaved a sigh. Simon was the only other person in the world he could discuss the topic with openly. "It's Sandburg," he admitted finally.

He saw Simon halt the coffee cup halfway to his lips and his face visibly pale. "I...I thought he was okay. The hospital said...."

Jim held up a hand to still the captain's fears. "He will be." Then, as he set down his own cup, he finished in an undertone. "This time."

Simon heard and frowned. "What do you mean 'this time'?"

In frustration, Jim pushed himself out of the chair and began pacing. He could feel the control he held over his worries and emotions slip a notch. He turned to face his captain.

"I don't understand him, Simon. Ever since this thing with Alex, he's...he's been different."

"Different how?"

Jim rubbed at his forehead as if trying to dismiss a pesky headache. "Different. I.... It's hard to explain."

Simon leaned back in his chair and waited patiently.

"After his...drowning." Jim paused at the use of the word as it conjured up the terror he'd felt all those months ago. "We both wanted so much for things to be right between us again, and they seemed to be. We weren't arguing like we had been. We talked more." He paused again. "I talked more. I don't think it's possible for him to have talked more." A brief smile touched his face at the thought. "We clicked together even better than we did before but..." His voice trailed off as his face grew serious again.

"But what, Jim? What's wrong?"

With a shiver, Ellison forced himself to say what was foremost on his mind. "Last night. It was like he has this idea in his head that my life is more important than his."

Confusion marred the captain's features. "What?"

Jim faced him, hesitation written in every action. "Blair saw Waverly's brother before I did. The brother was aiming at me, not him. He deliberately threw himself in front of me to take the bullet."

Simon was shocked. Jim had left that little detail out of his verbal report the night before.

The detective continued. "After Waverly's brother shot him, Blair was conscious for a moment before backup or the paramedics arrived. He didn't say a word, he just looked at me and smiled." The memory of the incident returned with startlingly clarity. "It was as if he was satisfied I was okay and...something else...." Jim concentrated until the elusive thought snagged and caught hold. "Like he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that things were going to be okay. That he didn't have to worry because I was going to take care of the situation." He paused and swallowed hard. "I...I just don't know if I can live up to that kind of trust. I'm not sure if I want to live up to that kind of trust."

Simon watched his best detective's shoulders slump as he revealed his nagging worries. He thought of the other half of his best team, lying in a hospital bed across town, as Ellison fretted.

Even though he was an outsider to the strange partnership that had sprung up between the two totally opposite men, Simon understood the bond that held them together. Both men had lived separate but unstable childhoods, Jim's with a father who couldn't or wouldn't let himself love his sons the way they deserved to be loved, and Blair with a nomadic mother who hadn't stayed in one place long enough for the kid to ever know what a home was supposed to be. But, as adults, both men had found a friendship and a belonging they had been missing their entire lives. The Sentinel/Guide relationship had brought them together, but something even stronger kept them together.

Simon knew he had to do something to relieve Jim's mind of his concerns about Blair's incredible trust before the man took it upon himself to do something he'd regret.

A verse from a long ago Sunday school returned to his memory as he stood and stepped around the desk to stand in front of Jim.

"Have you ever heard the old saying, 'No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends'?"

Jim searched his memory then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Sure. It's from the Bible. But Simon, this isn't..."

"This isn't what?" Simon leaned against his desk, knowing he'd have to wait for Jim to work his way to understanding about what he was trying to tell him.

"This isn't the same thing." Jim began pacing again.

"Why not?"

"Because that talks about a spiritual love, a love for all mankind."

"That's true, but it's not limited to that." Simon thought hard for a moment. "How do you think of Sandburg?"

"I don't understand." Jim said, stopping and frowning.

"How do you think of Sandburg?" Simon enunciated each word carefully. "Do you think of him 'only' as your partner or 'only' as a person who helps you control your senses?"

Jim stilled, a glimmer of understanding beginning to take shape in his mind. "Not just my partner. He's my friend."

"Your best friend?" Simon prompted.

"Yes. My best friend and--," Jim closed his eyes with a knowing understanding. "--my brother. The brother I chose. The brother I could never be close to as a kid," he finished with a regretful sigh.

Simon smiled despite the serious tones he heard from Jim. "And wouldn't you have done the same thing for him last night if you'd been given half a chance?"

A part, the blessed protector side of Jim, still clung to his reluctance to accept Blair's act of self-sacrifice. "But Simon, I'm a cop. I'm paid to take chances like that. Blair's not."

Simon sighed and held in his frustration at Jim's continued stubbornness. "Jim, it doesn't matter whether you're paid to take a chance like that or not. If you love someone, you'll do what you have to in order to keep them safe. Sandburg loves you like a brother, the same as you do him. Don't fault him for doing something you would have done if you'd had the chance.

Jim remained still, running his captain's statement through his mind. "I don't know Simon." He shook his head. "It scares me that he's willing to take a bullet meant for me. I...I just don't know where all this faith he has in me comes from."

"Don't you?" Simon asked, giving him a hard stare. "After all you two have been through, Jim? How many times have you pulled his butt out of a dangerous situation? And how many times has he kept you from zoning while you were using your senses? I'd say you've given each other enough cause for trust." He saw Jim frown and knew he wasn't convinced. "Look, Jim. You're exhausted. Go home, clean up and rest. Then, when the kid is better, sit him down and the two of you talk. I mean really talk. Listen to what he has to say with an open mind. You might be surprised."

Jim breathed deep. "I'll talk to him, sir, but I'll also do what I have to in order to keep him safe. I don't want to risk his life anymore." Simon opened his mouth to protest but Jim cut him off. "He's my responsibility, Simon. I'll handle it." He started for the door.

"Jim." Simon's voice was filled with exasperation. "Are you going home?"

Jim paused, a look of uncertainty crossing his face for a moment. "Not yet, sir. I'm going down to the locker room to wash up a bit, then I've got a report to file."

"Fine. But think about what I said. Okay?"

Jim nodded as he continued out of the office and past his desk.

 

Simon watched his detective until the elevator doors closed. He understood Jim's doubts. As an outsider, Simon had seen everything that had happened between the sentinel and guide. He felt, perhaps because he was an outsider to their relationship, he knew why Blair had taken the action he had during the shoot out. His problem now was how to explain it to Jim.

A bouquet of flowers on Rhonda's desk caught his eye. He'd forgotten that today was Valentine's Day but seeing the flowers, an idea came to him.

He turned to the bookcase that stood against his far wall, scanned the volumes until he found the book he was searching for, then began flipping through the pages until he came to the text he remembered.

After taking a moment to quickly scan the information, he smiled. This, along with the biblical passage, explained what he had been trying to get across to Jim. He placed a post-it note on the page for a bookmark, then carried it out and laid it open-faced in the center of his detective's desk.

Jim might not listen to him if Simon started talking about Blair's love and faith in him, but perhaps if he were to read the words instead, he might stop long enough to think before disregarding the explanation. Hopefully, the book would help Jim understand what Simon clearly saw.

* * * *

When Jim returned from the downstairs locker room, he fully expected Simon to be waiting to continue their conversation. In some ways, he reflected, his captain was as stubborn as his partner.

But, instead of waiting for him, Simon seemed to be up to his neck in reports. He appeared to be oblivious to Jim's return, so Jim took the opportunity to get his own reports completed.

He had been able to wash some of the weariness from his face, but he was looking forward to getting home and scrubbing away the residual remains that only a sentinel could feel. He had a lot to process from the past twenty-four hours, and he didn't want to face Blair until he had decided how to go about convincing the younger man that he wanted to continue their sentinel/guide relationship as well as their friendship, but without Blair's being involved in police work any longer.

How he was going to accomplish that little feat was still beyond him, but he would think of something. Jim's brow wrinkled in confusion as he sat down at his computer and found an open book in the middle of his desk.

A quick glance around the bullpen and toward Simon's office gave him no hint who might have put it there. Jim looked back at the book. The title on the page read 'Valentine's Day and the reason we celebrate'. Still curious, Jim picked up the book and flipped it over to read the cover. The title was "Holidays Around the World". That brought a vague memory, and a quick scan of the inside front cover revealed the short message that brought the memory into clear focus and told him who was responsible.

"To Simon," he read silently. "The best boss in the world. Rhonda."

Jim remembered the book now. Simon's administrative assistant had given it to him last Christmas after the bullpen group had gotten into a deep discussion regarding obscure ethnic observances. At the time, the talk had escalated into a challenge to see how many of the unofficial holidays each person could name. Blair had come out the clear winner, but even he had been stumped by Simon's reference to a little-known celebration called Juneteenth.

The captain had explained about it being an African-American holiday celebrating Lincoln's signing of the Emancipation Proclamation. Later, Rhonda had come to Blair and asked his help in locating more information regarding the observance. Jim remembered that Simon had been particularly touched by his assistants' thoughtfulness at obtaining the book.

Feeling slightly annoyed, Jim reopened the slim volume to the marked page. He had very real worries regarding his partner at the moment and couldn't understand why Simon would leave him information about Valentine's Day. He didn't have time for a historical lesson at the moment, but something kept him from closing the book. Simon wasn't one for leaving cryptic bits of information. As Jim thought about it now, any time his captain stressed a point, he was usually right. Just as with Sandburg, Jim had learned not to ignore advice from either one of them. He turned his attention back to the marked section and began to read.

Fifteen minutes later he found himself re-reading certain paragraphs once again.

According to church tradition, Valentine had been a priest near Rome in about the year 270 AD. At that time, the Roman Emperor was imprisoning Christians for not worshiping the Roman gods. During this persecution, Valentine was arrested. Some say he was arrested because he was performing Christian marriages, but others say it was for helping Christians escape prison.

During the trial, they asked Valentine what he thought of the Roman gods Jupiter and Mercury. Of course, Valentine said they were false gods and that the God that Jesus called Father was the only true God. So the Romans threw him in prison for insulting their gods.

While in prison, Valentine continued to minister. He witnessed to the guards. One of the guards was a good man who had adopted a blind girl. He asked Valentine if his God could help his daughter. Valentine prayed, and the girl was given her sight. The guard and his whole family, 46 people, became believers in Jesus and were baptized. Because these people had come to know Jesus, Valentine praised God right there in his prison cell. When the emperor heard about this, he was furious that Valentine was still making converts even in prison, so he had Valentine beheaded.

Valentine knew that he might get caught in his Christian activities. He knew if he told the court the truth about the Roman gods, he would be thrown in prison. And he knew if he continued to witness to Christ in the prison, he would make his captors angry. But he continued, because he loved the Lord and his fellow humans. He was willing to risk his life to free the prisoners and spread the Good News of Jesus Christ to those who needed to hear it.

The section on Valentine's Day concluded with: "The Bible Says: 'No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends.'(John 15:13)" God showed us this love by coming in Christ to die for our sins. And St. Valentine demonstrated this love when he died for his friends. This is the kind of love that Valentine's Day is really about.

There was more, but that section contained the bible passage Simon had talked about earlier, about loving a friend enough to give your own life for them. His eyes went back to the text once more. Although the passage about Valentine's unconditional love and trust in God was different from his and Sandburg's situation, there was a similarity. Blair gave Jim unconditional faith, trust and -- Jim hesitated over the word, but the emotions brought it up -- even a reverent love.

This was what Simon had been trying to make him understand earlier.

Jim's brow creased in a somber frown. Could he continue to live with the knowledge that his best friend thought so highly of him that he would willingly give his life to protect him? Did Blair honestly consider Jim's life more important than his own? And maybe the hardest question: would he do it again if the situation arose?

Jim sighed and shook his head. He knew the answers. He was only reluctant to admit the facts to himself. He couldn't change Sandburg. Deep inside, he knew that. Blair might agree to whatever conditions Jim placed on him, but he knew as surely as the sun would rise in the east that his guide would do what he felt necessary to protect him. Even confining Blair to the office or home, away from fieldwork, would only be effective to a degree.

He had to face facts. He needed and wanted Sandburg by his side. Despite the danger, despite his partner's headstrong ways, he wanted his guide with him. He'd have to pay closer attention to the younger man's actions and attitude, but in the end, he knew it would be worth it.

Jim looked from the book and found his captain watching him through the glass divider of the office. He stood up and walked to Simon's door, pausing only briefly to knock once before entering.

Jim handed Simon the book. "Thank you," he said softly. "I think I understand now."

The start of a smile crossed the captain's face. "Good. I'm glad. I didn't know how else to make you understand."

Jim's gaze lowered to the desk top. "You know this isn't going to be easy. He's stubborn, head-strong, independent...."

Simon's smile grew larger. "Sounds a lot like a detective I know." At Jim's grin, he rose from his desk and walked around to stand in front of his friend. "I know it won't be easy. Nothing worthwhile ever is. But I think you'll find in the long run it's worth it."

Jim stared up at his captain, his friend, his face serious. "You're going to have to help me Simon. I need him and I want him with me, but if I tell him not to come along or to stay out of something, I'm going to need your reinforcement to back me up."

"You'll have it." Simon hesitated, placing emphasis on the rest of his agreement. "As long as you know where to draw the line. Don't be overprotective."

Jim nodded slowly. "I expect you to let me know if I step over that line."

Simon placed a hand on Jim's shoulder. "I will, Jim. To the best of our ability, we'll protect him."

Jim smiled, feeling the first measure of relief he'd had since Sandburg had been shot the previous day. "Thank you, sir," he said, with the beginnings of a grin, and started for the door to leave.

Simon stopped him. "Where are you going?"

Jim looked down at his chest and pulled at the bloodstained shirt he still wore. "I think I need to change before going back to see my partner." His smile was a little wider this time. "See you later, sir."

Simon watched him leave and couldn't help but feel better at the lighter step he saw in his detective's stride.

* * * *

After his talk with Simon, Jim returned to the hospital for a quick check on Blair. The younger man was sleeping. He checked him and satisfied himself that it was a healing sleep rather than unconsciousness like last night. Jim felt more comfortable leaving him for a while.

He went back to the loft, showered, and caught a few hours of much-needed sleep before returning once more to the hospital.

It was late afternoon when he quietly pushed open the door to his partner's room. The nurse said Sandburg had slept most of the day, and Jim was determined not to wake him. Instead, he would content himself simply to sit beside Blair's bed and listen to the soothing rhythm of his guide's breathing and heartbeat.

Jim carried a vase of flowers in his hands and quietly set them down on the window ledge before taking a seat at Blair's bedside. True to the nurse's words, his friend was still sleeping.

After assuring himself that Blair was fine, Jim settled into a more comfortable position, subconsciously monitoring the younger man's condition despite the array of medical equipment that was performing the same task. As he watch Sandburg's chest rise and fall with each breath, his thoughts drifted back to the information that had been in the book and what Simon had said to him earlier that morning.

He found himself studying the man he had come to think of a closer to him than his blood brother.

It was a scary thing to know someone -- anyone -- placed that much faith and trust in him. It was something he wasn't sure he could ever get used to. Not to say he wasn't honored, but when he thought of the amount of trust Blair bestowed on him, Jim couldn't help but wonder what he had ever done to deserve it.

In his opinion, it was Blair who deserved the honor, not him. Every once in a while, he stopped and let himself think about where he would have been if the impulsive grad student hadn't posed as a doctor and barged his way into Jim's examination room at their first meeting. The possibility of never meeting Sandburg and not having his help in controlling his senses was frightening. Jim knew he owed his life and sanity to his friend. And yet, in spite of that fact, Blair always acted as if it were Jim doing the favor by permitting the anthropologist to study him.

Jim shook his head in silent wonder. He owed so much to his friend...much more than he would ever be able to repay. He studied Blair's pale features and smiled as he slowly registered a change in the young man's breathing. His partner was waking up.

Jim leaned forward, gently placing one hand on Blair's good shoulder while he used the other to brush away stray curls from the waking man's forehead.

"It's okay, buddy. I'm here. Just relax." Jim kept his voice soft, his tone low and soothing.

Blair's eyes fluttered open for only a few seconds before a weak smile appeared on his face and he drifted back into a comforting sleep. Jim knew the younger man couldn't have seen him -- the drugs, no glasses and dim lighting saw to that -- but Blair had known Jim was with him and would protect him. Sentinel and Guide.

It suddenly dawned on Jim that the sentinel watched out for the guide just as the guide watched out for the sentinel. A shared trust, a shared faith. A smile of understanding crept across his face.

He sat with him until he felt certain Blair would sleep through the night, then left to return home and finally seek sleep for himself.

Unlike the previous night, he no longer harbored the same worries about his partner. Jim would continue to protect his friend the best he could, and Blair would probably continue to get into dangerous situations, but now, at least, Jim understood why Blair took the chances he did. He'd be prepared for them in the future.

* * * *

The next morning Jim arrived at the hospital in a much better frame of mind. He knew where he stood with his partner, and it didn't seem to put a chill in his heart they way it had the day before. He was willing to accept the role Sandburg cast him in, as long as he could make the younger man understand that his actions were not an acceptable standard.

Once again, he opened the door to Blair's room quietly in case he was still sleeping. To his surprise, Blair opened his eyes when he entered, and Jim saw a weak but encouraging smile appear on his partner's face.

"Hey, buddy," he said, continuing into the room and immediately checking out his friend's vital signs. The kid looked much better this morning. Pale, but better.

Blair's eyes carried a hint of a sparkle as he smiled from the partially raised bed. "Hi. They told me you were here yesterday and last night. Sorry, man. I don't remember much."

Jim stepped to the bedside and placed a reassuring hand on the younger man's uninjured shoulder, taking care not to jostle him. "Don't worry, Chief. I think it was pretty understandable." He gently patted the shoulder before settling himself into the chair. "So how are you feeling?"

Even as he asked the question, Jim's senses went back to scanning his partner for signs of distress.

"Better," Blair answered, then smiled again at the concern he heard in Jim's voice. He attempted to shift in the bed, but winced in pain from the slight movement. "I ought to, after sleeping for twenty-four hours." He grinned sheepishly.

Jim grinned back at him. "I'll say. You lazy dog." There was a short period of uncomfortable silence before Jim's expression turned serious. "Sandburg. Blair. We have to talk." He heard his partner's heart begin to pound as Blair stiffened in apprehension. "Relax buddy. I'm not going to bite your head off."

"You're not?" Blair tilted his head and looked up at him in surprise.

"No. I'm not. But I am going to kick your ass from here to Portland if you ever pull a stunt like that again," Jim said with meaning as he planted both hands firmly on the bed and leaned close to Blair. He felt a small measure of satisfaction as his partner shrank back into the mattress.

"I was only..." Blair's voice trailed off.

"Only what, Chief?" When Blair didn't answer right away, the older man continued. "Trying to save my life?"

Jim's face softened as his partner nodded and lowered his eyes. He pushed himself back off the edge of the bed with a small sigh. "I know. And I appreciate it."

Blair's look was hopeful. "Then, you're not mad at me?"

"I didn't say that, Chief." He paused. "Look...as much as I appreciate what you did, I'm not willing to let it become acceptable behavior between us."

"I'm not sorry for what I did, Jim," Blair said stubbornly, then admitted hesitantly, "I don't know if I'd be able to do it again if I took the time to stop and think about it, but I'm not sorry."

Jim held in the smile and sense of pride he felt at his partner's willingness to stand firmly in defense of his actions. Finally he shook his head. "I know, buddy. Just understand that your life means as much to me as mine does to you."

Blair nodded slowly. An understanding bridged between them now, and both felt more comfortable.

"I understand." He lowered his voice to a loud whisper. "Besides, the hospital staff is entirely too familiar with my anatomy."

Jim laughed as he sat down in the chair and relaxed. "Good. Maybe that will encourage you to think before you jump in front of a bullet again."

"It got my attention."

Blair became quiet once more and slowly pulled a card from beneath his pillow. Jim recognized it as the card he'd left with the flowers the previous evening. He remembered the words he had written inside and tensed, waiting to see how Blair would react to the message.

<'To Blair, Thank you for your faith. I hope I never disappoint you. Jim.'>

"Uh, Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"You...uh...you sent the flowers? The Valentine's Day flowers?" He emphasized the holiday's name.

"Yeah." The barest hint of an amused smiled touched his lips.

"Ahmmm...were...were they leftovers or something?"

Jim shook his head, enjoying the mix of confusion and hesitancy in Blair's voice. "No. Actually I had the florist make them up special for me."

"Valentine's Day, Jim?"

Ellison nodded once more. "It seemed appropriate."

Blair looked up at him quickly, his eyes widening in perplexity. "It did?"

"Yeah, it did." Jim smiled. He couldn't wait to see Sandburg's face when he explained the meaning behind the holiday celebration. It seemed for once he was going to be the teacher instead of the student, and it felt pretty good. "It's time I gave you a lesson, Professor. Have you ever wondered why we celebrate Valentine's Day?"

The End

*If you'd like more information on Juneteenth, it can be found here:

*If you'd like more information on St. Valentine's Day, this is only one of several places it can be found: members.carol.net/~asmsmsks/valentin.htm.