Title & Summary - By Dawn's Early Light - The holiday season is complicated by a series of miscommunications.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted within this story do not belong to us, but are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount and The SciFi Channel. No money has been made from the writing of this story.

Note from the Author: Takes place prior to Sentinel Too.

By Dawn's Early Light
By Jael Lyn
December 2000

Jim Ellison stared grudgingly at the stack of paperwork stubbornly occupying the surface of his desk. Four straight hours of pushing papers and the pile didn't seem to be getting any smaller. The general gloom of the half-deserted, post-Christmas bullpen only added to his ill temper. Damn, this always went faster when Sandburg was helping. Well, no point wishing for the impossible. Sandburg wasn't going to appear out of thin air and save the day. At least not if Jim had anything to say about it. He pushed back the offending files and rubbed his tired eyes, allowing himself to drift.

Sandburg. The guy was a paradox. When he was around, the guy was equal parts irritating and essential, on the job and at the loft. Every time Jim tripped over wet towels in the bathroom, every time Blair lost track of the dividing line between observer and official police officer, Jim was ready to throttle him. Yet all the little transgressions of day-to-day life somehow weren't such a big deal after all, when you considered that the life went out of the room when the grad student was absent.

And absent he was, primarily at Jim's insistence. A chance meeting with Eli Stoddard in the entry of Hargrove Hall had settled it. After months of balancing his own education and teaching responsibilities with being a busy detective's partner, Blair had gotten himself into a serious jam with his dissertation committee and a couple of late grant proposals. True to form, Sandburg hadn't exactly shared that with his roommate, but Eli had, remarking at length about his concern for his favorite student.

Jim immediately modified his agenda. Instead of lunch to celebrate the end of the semester and a ride to the station, Blair was treated to lunch, a dressing down and a firm escort to the library. Despite Sandburg's strident protest that everything was under control, Jim had stood his ground, to the point of threatening to have Captain Banks pull the essential observer's credentials.

That was two weeks ago. Two weeks that had included relieving Sandburg of all responsibilities at the loft; no cooking, no errands, absolutely no police work, and a sizable dose of mother-henning, including regular meals and lights out at ten. Blair was furious, rebellious, and, in the end, grateful. Jim was resolute, and secretly miserable. Despite the protests, Jim could sense the tension flow out of his roommate as one by one the delayed academic tasks were completed. He'd even managed to deflect Blair's hints about Christmas. The last thing his friend needed was to be distracted with decorating a tree and all that nonsense, even though Blair would have reveled in it. Besides, the financial resources of a grad student were pathetic. Jim didn't want his roommate wasting his limited cash on Christmas gifts.

"Ellison! Is that homicide summary finished?" Standing at the door of his office, Simon Banks wore an angry scowl that wasn't really directed at his best detective.

Jim pulled himself guiltily back to reality. "I can print out a working copy, Captain. I only have to add the statistics for this month."

Simon stalked over to Ellison's desk. "Isn't that exactly what you told me yesterday, Detective? I really need that report."

"Sorry, sir. It's just going a little slower than expected."

Simon gazed thoughtfully and then snagged a chair from a nearby desk. He pulled it up to the side opposite Jim and sat down. "Let me translate. Sandburg didn't take a hopeless jumble of notes and assemble the report while we did something more interesting. So this is what we've come to? I can't get any work out of my department unless Sandburg is here to drive me crazy?"

Jim stopped trying to look efficient grinned sheepishly. "I was just coming to the same conclusion, Captain. I'd give anything to pick up that phone and get him over here. Sandburg's just so good at this stuff, and I'm out of practice. I didn't really realize how much he was actually doing until he wasn't here doing it."

"How's his university stuff coming?" Simon asked hopefully. "As an active co-conspirator, are we going to let him come back soon? Excuse me if self interest reigns supreme."

"There's hope. I think it's going pretty well. I proof-read two grant proposals last night, and he finished a paper for publication right before Christmas."

Simon straightened in his chair with a doubtful look on his face. "You did what?""

"I proof-read. Not that I really understand them or anything, but I can still spell and find typos. He got a big chunk done on the diss, too, but he won't let me read that. At least not until it's done."

"Well, then maybe it's worth it." Simon sighed. "I thought you guys would at least come to the Christmas party. I know you worked, but I expected you after your shift."

Jim shook his head. "I played Grinch, or at least that's what I told Sandburg. After talking to Dr. Stoddard, I didn't want him to have any distractions. I kick myself for forgetting that the university is his life, and his income. He was going to lose his grants, Simon. He damn near works full time for us for free. He'd still be showing up here and have a checking account of zero, or less than zero. Anyway, I think he bought the ruse, and I apologize for the bad manners. I'm sure it was a great time."

"Well, I had no intention of pulling his credentials, but I did my bit for the cause. Now, Detective, about that report. Can you get me something to look at within the next hour? I have to meet with the brass, and it would be better if I had something to placate them with."

"I really can give you most of it now, and I can finish it completely with a little more work." Jim clicked a few keys and sent what he had to the printer. "I'll call Sandburg and cancel lunch."

"Don't. You know as well as I do, if you don't take him to lunch, the kid doesn't eat. I'd rather get him back at full strength in another week than spoil the progress that's been made." Jim was heading in the direction of the printer when Simon stopped him. "I'll get it. Take the kid to lunch." He gave Jim a nudge. "It can just be our dirty little secret that we miss him."

Jim was still chuckling at the thought when the elevator arrived.

Two days before New Year's, Hargrove Hall was virtually deserted. Almost no students were on campus, and even the teaching assistants and the professors made themselves scarce at this time of year. Jim had no trouble picking up the sound of Blair's jungle drum recording even though he wasn't on the same floor. The drums were actually a good sign. Sandburg tended to play that music when he was in a good mood, and he usually was highly productive when he was in a good mood.

It piqued Jim's interest when the drums stopped abruptly. A short flash of worry faded when he heard Blair answer the phone. It was apparently Naomi. Jim dialed down his hearing, not wanting to eavesdrop between mother and son, and headed down the stairs.

He knocked softly at the office door to let the occupant know he was no longer alone. Blair waved him in enthusiastically, continuing his conversation, but pointing to the one empty chair in the room. Well, nearly empty. Only a small mountain of folders had to be relocated before Jim could take a seat.

Jim smiled. The other end of the conversation was definitely Naomi. Although he could easily identify the musical quality of her voice, he made a concerted effort not to decipher her words.

"Mom, I can't believe it. I didn't expect to see you at all this holiday! It would be great! Of course I'll come. No, I didn't do the Hanukkah candles this year. No...no tree, no Christmas dinner. I was under house arrest." He smirked at Jim. "No, Mom, not really. I'm just teasing Jim. Yeah, he's right here." Blair held the receiver in Jim's direction. "She wants you - don't make me look bad!"

"Hello, Naomi," Jim answered. "Happy Holidays, and I do not have Blair under house arrest. Are you coming for a visit?"

"No, Jim, not to Cascade. I'm coming to Seattle to celebrate New Year's. I'm joining friends on retreat. We're going to welcome the New Year watching the sun come up over Rainier. Can you come with Blair? I know it's short notice, but it's very important to restore your spiritual energy at midwinter."

Jim couldn't stifle the grin. Talking a mile a minute was obviously an inherited Sandburg trait. "Sorry, Naomi. I'm working on the holiday, but if Blair's finished his homework, I'm sure he'll come. In fact, I insist." Jim easily ducked a wad of paper that Sandburg chucked his direction. "Seriously, I appreciate the invitation. How about if I let you work out the details with Blair? He could use the break." Jim listened with amusement as Naomi rattled off details about this upcoming adventure.

He finally handed the phone back to the number one son. "I'll go get you some fresh coffee, Chief." Jim halted just before leaving the room. Blair pulled away from his phone conversation to listen and covered the receiver with a hand as Jim stage whispered. "Don't remind your mom that this is Washington. There won't be any sun over Mt. Rainier. It'll be raining cats and dogs."

Blair rolled his eyes, and with a huge grin, turned his attention back to the ever-enthusiastic Naomi and her grand plans.

*****

Jim watched in silence the next morning as Blair hustled around the kitchen for the first time in two weeks. The scrambled eggs he was preparing were sort of a farewell breakfast before Blair took off for Seattle.

"Blair, do you know where your mom is right now. Can you get a hold of her?"

"Not really," Blair answered, scooping a serving of eggs onto Jim's plate. "Why?"

"Because I just checked the weather and road report. There's a big storm rolling in. Can you check her flight or talk to her before you go?"

"Jim, I appreciate the concern, but I'm not going on expedition, here. It's just a simple little drive on a freeway to a major airport to pick up my mom. Thousands of people do it every day, even in lousy weather. When isn't the weather lousy?"

"I know." Jim toyed with his eggs. "It's just that the Volvo is so unreliable, and..."

"We could have nuclear war, too, any minute," Blair retorted sarcastically. His tone softened. "Do you really want me to cancel? Do you need me at the station? If you're having problems with your senses, you should have told me."

"No, I don't want you to cancel. The Cascade PD will survive. Just be careful. That car is a rolling accident waiting to happen. You'd probably be safer walking down the center stripe of the freeway."

Blair slipped into his chair and gleefully took a bite of his own eggs. "Do not dis my car, man. A classic travels in an aura of invincibility. It will outlive the truck, I guarantee it."

Jim snorted. "And they're giving you a Ph.D. I fear for the future of civilization."

Forty five minutes later, when he waved from the cab of the truck at his friend, Jim had to fight down the urge to throw a road block in front of the Volvo. All he really wanted to do was drag Sandburg back to the loft, barricade the doors and soak up the sweet feel of companionship that he'd sacrificed for the last two weeks. A couple of games, champagne at midnight, make fun of all the traditional New Year celebrations on TV. Eat some weird Sandburg creation. Figure out some excuse to finally give him that new jacket that was supposed to be for Christmas.

Instead, he watched for a long time before the Volvo disappeared from sight into the rain, listening to the splash of water thrown up by the tires.

****

Blair changed position just a bit. The really clear spot on the windshield had shifted a little, and he needed to catch up with it. He ought to get the wipers replaced. Then again, maybe not. It was twenty bucks he didn't have to spare, and the wipers weren't that bad unless it was a total downpour. Just his bad luck to match up this little jaunt to Seattle with the second coming of Noah's flood.

He snapped off the radio. He was far enough out of Cascade to lose his regular station, and he wasn't in the mood to search for a new one. Besides, having some time to think wasn't a bad thing. He certainly had his share of things to sort out.

The slap of the wipers seemed to match his new internal mantra, "You can't do it, You can't do it." God, what a mess. He'd never missed a dissertation deadline before. And the renewal dates on his grants? Talk about stupid! Even if they accepted the late submissions, or one of the new ones came through, he'd have to locate some cash to buy books for next semester. The expenses for this trip were going on the credit card, which was another hopeless issue. He was fast becoming a walking advertisement for debt management. If Jim took it into his head to ask for a rent payment or want his privacy back, he'd be living in his car.

To top it off, he wasn't even sure WHY he was doing it. A couple of months ago, he'd been so confident of his place, in his growing friendship with Jim and the academic success that was just on the horizon. A sentinel study beyond his wildest dreams. He had a secure home and a role at Jim's side, really making a contribution to the police work and his roommate's life. Then the grind of burning the candle at both ends got harder to do, and things just spiraled out of control. Now Jim didn't seem to want him at the station. How many times had he said during this two-week banishment that he wasn't needed? Hell, they hadn't even exchanged a Christmas gift. What about the department Christmas party? Talk about being reminded that you WERE NOT a real part of the team - Jim had made it crystal clear not to go there. Maybe that firm friendship was an illusion. Right now his role in Jim Ellison's life was closer to being a stray puppy - cared for, but definitely temporary.

His thoughts circled around, chasing each other in a futile search for resolution. Dodging another curtain of water thrown up by a passing semi, he tried to conjure up the image of Naomi's smile. Naomi. A loving haven, even if it only lasted until the winds of chance lifted her off to the next adventure, like so much dandelion fluff.

****

"All right, people. Everyone in the conference room, on the double." Simon's voice boomed out as he swept through the bullpen. Jim shrugged at Henri Brown's questioning glance. He didn't have a clue. The room filled up quickly. An urgent summons from Captain Banks was not something you ignored, not if you had any sense.

"Sorry, people. I know it's New Year's Eve, and most of you are ready to come off your shift, but as of this minute everyone is on duty until further notice." Simon let the groans die down before he continued. "The weather moving in has turned into an ice storm. We don't have them often, so some of you may not have gone through one. Washington Department of Transportation just put out its highest advisory for the whole western corridor. The storm's moving north, and we won't get hit hard for another hour or so. A couple of areas to the south have already lost power. The mayor has just asked all downtown employers to close up early, but we're not going to get people out of here before we start having major traffic problems."

"The whole department is on a disaster relief advisory. If you have a weather worthy vehicle, check out some extra survival gear and use it. If not, try to get something out of the motor pool before they're all gone."

"Got that right," chimed in Brown. "If you don't have a rig, you do traffic. I was stuck on the corner of First and Water until two in the morning during the last big power outage. It was like standing in a refrigerator."

Simon nodded. "Report to dispatch for your assignment. Rhonda and I will be at the emergency command center. Let's go. I want everyone in place before the hour is out." The room emptied out as quickly as it had filled moments before. "Ellison, hold up. I need to see you."

Jim turned back to his captain. "Yes, sir?"

"I want you to come to the command center with me. We might need your - uh - special skills. Do you know where Sandburg is?"

"Somewhere between here and Seattle. Hopefully, at SeaTac by now."

"Damn. The airport is virtually closed. They can't keep the ice off the runways. The greater Seattle area is at a standstill. It's a skating rink."

Jim closed his eyes, seeing in his mind the nearly bald tires on Sandburg's beloved classic. There was absolutely nothing he could do.

*****

Blair cursed quietly. Damn wipers. Now he really couldn't see! Frustrated, he hit he window washers, and panicked when the view in front of him went opaque. Frantic, he rolled down the window and eased toward the shoulder.

By the time he rolled to a stop, he realized the problem. Ice. Leaving the Volvo running, he switched the defrost to full blast and scrabbled around the glove box searching for an ice scraper. He hadn't been paying attention as the precipitation had shifted from rain to sleet. Chastising himself, he remembered that in the interest of economy he'd just topped off the washer reservoir with water rather than buying more washer fluid. No wonder it had frozen when it hit the glass!

Checking traffic, he ventured out to scrape the windshield. Sleet trickled down his neck, and his fingers quickly went numb. At least the traffic on the freeway had slowed. The road surface was taking on a dull sheen, and drivers were gradually realizing the change in driving conditions.

Windshield cleared, he guided the Volvo back out onto the freeway, increasing his speed cautiously. A few tests with the brakes weren't encouraging. He skidded and shimmied, but mercifully kept the car in its own lane. A few miles later he headed for the exit. He'd need to finish this trek on back roads where he could drive more slowly.

*****

"Captain, I've got more minor traffic accidents." Rhonda handed over a stack of scribbled notes. She was pitching in to help the overloaded dispatchers. "The guys on the westbound Valley exit are begging for help. They've got six cars piled up like dominos."

Simon accepted the papers grimly, and turned to the wall covered with a huge grid of the city, waiting for the new calls to show in red. "Jim, get over there. We need to close that exit and reroute the traffic."

Both men studied the grid. "Mill Street exit doesn't look too bad," Jim suggested. "It isn't as steep, and the turn's not as tight."

"Do it." Simon scanned the notes again. "There are no reports of injuries. Send the motorists to Whitman School for temporary shelter. The Red Cross is set up there already and it's close. Tow trucks are at a premium. We'll never get them back on the road."

Jim rolled his eyes. "We don't want them back on the road." He was already heading for the door.

"Take the four wheel drive, Jim," Simon called at his back. "Once I have you out there, I'll probably keep you out for awhile. Be safe."

"Very good, sir," Jim answered briskly, snagging his coat and some winter gear he'd retrieved from the truck. He hesitated, and slipped over to Rhonda's side. Crouching near her chair, he whispered, "You wouldn't have State Patrol stuff at your finger tips, would you?"

"I can," she answered, a little too busy to make eye contact. "Looking for anything in particular?"

Jim grabbed a post-it note and jotted down a license number. Rhonda pressed onto the front of her display screen. "Sandburg?" she asked quietly.

Jim nodded. "Let me know, okay?"

"Green Volvo, right? He'll be fine, Jim, but I'll give you the heads up if anything comes across." Rhonda turned her attention back to her headset. "There's another two cars off of that same exit."

"On my way."

Rhonda watched him disappear through the doorway. Who would have thought big bad Ellison had such a soft spot? Not that she was going to tell.

*****

Blair pulled gently to a stop, fighting to keep the car straight. He was tired, soaked to the skin from scraping the windshield every ten minutes, and the Volvo's heater had no hope of drying him out between excursions. Somewhere, up further in the line of stopped cars, he could see a uniformed officer working his way back. May as well scrape again while I'm stopped, he thought ruefully.

He stepped gingerly out onto the icy roadway. The last stop he'd nearly ended up on his backside. The officer had almost worked back to him, so he stood by the car door, shivering. He pulled out his Cascade PD identification, just in case.

"Sir, what is your destination?"

"Sea-Tac airport. My mother's flight should have landed about an hour ago."

"Actually, I doubt it. Almost all of the flights are rerouted to Portland. In any case, we're closing the road to all but emergency traffic."

"What about the freeway? Can I do that?"

"Sorry, sir, but it's the same everywhere. Emergency traffic only. We're trying to get everyone back home and off the road. Where's home?"

"Cascade." Blair flipped out his observer's pass, hoping for mercy.

The tall officer glanced at the car, water dripping off his hat and forming tiny icicles along the brim. "You got all the way from Cascade on those tires? Do you have a death wish?"

Blair responded with a pained smile. "Well, it wasn't this bad when I started."

"Look, you'll never make it the sixty miles to SeaTac. If I don't stop you, someone else will, and your mother's probably not there anyway. Your best bet is to head back and stop for the night. I can direct you to a couple of places that are running reduced rates for stranded travelers that we're sending. Wait it out and try to track your mom's flight by phone."

Blair weighed his options. Talking his way further south didn't look very promising. This guy seemed okay, but there'd be another, and another after that. Dejected, he took the directions and a slip of paper saying he'd been sent by the state police. Cautiously, he turned the car and headed back in the direction he had come.

****

Jim looked down at the tear-streaked face in sympathy. "Mrs. Fredricks, try to calm down." The young woman shivered pathetically. She had no coat. Still strapped in their car seats, the baby was fussing, and a toddler sobbed and kicked his feet. Jim wrapped one of his emergency blankets around her shoulders, and tried to plan his next move.

"I was just going to run out to the store. We need diapers..."

"I know, Mrs. Fredricks. The car will be okay, but we need a tow truck, and we can't get one. You and the children need to get to a shelter." The other motorists were willing to hike the short distance once they were convinced it was futile to stay with their vehicles, but no way was this lady making it on foot. "Unbuckle the car seats and we'll put the kids in the back seat of my rig - it's the black one over there. I'll drive you over as soon as we get a break here." He waited for a response, but she just stared at him numbly. He nudged he gently, and she finally nodded.

"Right over there," he coaxed. He shuddered at the sound of crunching metal behind him, up at the top of the exit ramp. Another idiot had decided to ignore the closure signs. "I'll be right back." He was headed back up the roadway when he heard the police radio in his vehicle crackle to life. He detoured. It was Simon.

"We have a Metro bus on its side just north of you. Palmer and Anderson. Can you get there? I've got no one else."

"Tell them half an hour, sir." Jim looked back. Mrs. Fredricks was moving. Good. He jogged up to the top of the ramp, staying off the really icy spots. "Nolan! We need to block this lane off completely! And cite that guy, will you?" It's been hours since the first traffic warnings, Jim thought angrily. Why can't these people take a hint and get off the road.

*****

The road was almost deserted. Blair crawled along, occasionally coaxing the Volvo up to thirty. He was beginning to get the knack of judging the road by its color and sheen, avoiding the worst places. Off to his right, a yellow and orange neon sign gleamed dully, shrouded by the precipitation that couldn't decide whether it wanted to be sleet or snow or rain. A gloomy haven in the growing night, if you wanted it.

Blair halted the Volvo halted at the intersection, but didn't turn. Instead, he glided slowly through the intersection, eyes on the road, deep in concentration. The officer meant well, but his credit card couldn't stand a night or two in a motel, even at reduced rates. They might close the freeway, but they couldn't block off every road between here and Cascade.

Wipers still flapping, he amused himself with a little mental arithmetic. One hundred and fifty miles at twenty miles an hour...well, he'd never celebrated New Year's in the Volvo before.

*****

"Let me speak to Captain Banks. Yeah, I can wait." Jim leaned back in the seat, waiting impatiently.

"Banks here. What is it, Ellison?"

"I'm over on Whittier, just east of the park. I've got downed power lines from here as far as the eye can see."

"Your eyes, or mine?"

"Sorry, sir. Maybe ten blocks. I nearly took a snapped off pole through the rear window. The ice on the line is pulling another section down every few minutes. Any chance of getting a utility crew out here? Maybe they can stop the chain reaction."

"I'll see what I can do. It's the same all over the city. I want you to come back to the command center. Let me check the grid." There was a pause, and Jim could clearly hear the bustle in the background. The frantic initial pace had changed to quiet desperation as the night wore on. They weren't doing much more that herding people inside and trying to keep them out of immediate danger. "Try Broadway coming back. It looks clear all the way."

"I don't need to come in, Captain. I'm fine."

"Fine," Simon snorted. "You've been on duty nearly eighteen hours. It's after midnight. I'm ordering you to come in. Get some coffee and something to eat."

"Captain..." Jim started to protest.

"Enough, Detective. I don't have the time or the energy. I'll save you a doughnut."

*****

It was a city park. Blair squinted at the sign, barely illuminated by his headlights. Three Pines Municipal Park. Alleluia! Maybe twenty more miles to home, and he must have a restroom within striking distance. He dug under the seat, grateful that Jim insisted there be a working flashlight in every vehicle.

There An ugly little brick building, that with any luck, would be unlocked. The rain had finally stopped, but the damage was done. Every surface glittered with its coating of ice. It was eerily quiet, even for a small town in the middle of the night. He started across the grass, water bottle in hand, hoping for a refill as well as a pit stop.

~Bang! ~

Blair went flat to ground. Months of riding with a cop had honed new reflexes when he heard gunfire. In the following silence, he raised his head slowly. Then he heard a loud crack, and then a snap above him. A huge limb hit the ground in front of him, throwing a shower of ice particles onto him. So that was it! The trees, coated with ice, were breaking under their own weight. Blair looked more carefully around the park. Sure enough, the ground was littered with branches. Every few moments, another overloaded section would let go. It really did sound like gunfire.

Clearly not the place to be. Abandoning any thought of making it to the restrooms, Blair scouted a route back. He needed to get the Volvo out of here before his only means of transportation ended up under a tree trunk.

*****

The rest of downtown Cascade might be dark, but the emergency command center was on generator power. Jim was gratefully working his way through a second cup of coffee, a sandwich and a bowl of soup. Brown and Rafe, along with about twenty others, were crashed on the floors upstairs for a few hours of sleep, but he'd assured Simon that he was good for a while longer. He wasn't surprised when his weary captain dropped into the chair next to him. He had a white paper plate in one hand.

"I promised you - here." Simon placed the sorriest looking doughnut Jim had ever seen on the table in front of them.

The two men exchanged looks. Jim tried to judge whether his superior was up for some razzing. "Well, thank you, sir. I've never seen a finer specimen. I'm so glad I risked life and limb to be here for...that. Maybe you'd like half?"

"Oh, shut up, Ellison. I didn't say I'd save you a good one. To think I have a perfectly wonderful New Year's spread, complete with champagne, wasting away in my refrigerator at home."

"It looks like it came off the bottom of someone's shoe." Simon couldn't hold back the snicker in response. "Am I really supposed to eat it?" Jim asked, all pretense gone.

Simon picked up the offending lump, pretending to give it an aggrieved examination. He couldn't keep a straight face and tossed it back onto the plate. "No, but I did try. It was like the peasants storming the Bastille when those boxes came in." He shook his head. "Things have quieted down. Be glad you don't work for a utility company right now."

"You said it. Those downed lines are scary." Jim lowered his voice. "I can hear them coming, but it's no help. Sometimes there's nowhere to go to get out of the way."

"I hate to say it, but I think were going to get another wave of traffic accidents in the next couple hours. Some fool will finish the New Year's celebrating and decide to hit the streets. Correction - drunken fools, plural."

Jim groaned, picking at the crust of his sandwich. "No one could be that stupid." He looked at Simon, thinking of course someone would be that stupid. "Where do you want me?"

"Rhonda's highlighting maps with streets that we know are blocked by utilities. I'll give you an area to patrol, and you can just call stuff in. I'll wake guys up to respond, if necessary. I'll call you back in or send you home before dawn. We should be able to muster a fresh shift by then."

Jim downed the rest of his coffee. Rhonda was heading their direction with a handful of maps. He listened quietly while Simon gathered a small group of officers and gave them patrol sections. It was a mixed bag - five uniforms, two guys he knew from vice, three from burglary, a couple unknown faces and Joel Taggart. It would be a good group.

Briefing complete, everyone started to gather up clothing, coffee, snacks, whatever they could find. As an afterthought, Simon gave all of them a sack full of handcuffs. "If you get a drunk driver, nail them, but I don't want you guys off the street. You're our first line of defense. Cuff them to the nearest stationary object and I'll send transport."

"Captain Banks," protested one of the officers, "we'll have every defense attorney in the state going for cruel and unusual if we leave 'em like that."

"I don't care. Just get them off the streets." The big man scowled. "Let them be cold. God knows, you men will be."

****

The traffic light was off, but Blair stopped anyway. He was exhausted. It was like a deserted winter wonderland here on the outskirts of Cascade, but the remains of disaster were everywhere. Abandoned cars perched along roadsides, and power lines draped to the ground unexpectedly. Now that he wasn't fighting the rain and sleet, his mind had wandered more frequently to his unresolved dilemma. Why was he driving all these hours back to Cascade? Was he part salmon? Was there really a home to come back to? Even if he couldn't meet Naomi, maybe he should have stayed away, just to give Jim the space. Surely Jim was at work after this mess. Should he go to the station? Maybe that would be a bad move - he wasn't sure he was wanted.

Well, if he couldn't figure this out before, the mush he had for brains now certainly weren't going to do it. What he wouldn't give for some coffee to wake up. Even the 24-hour places were closed, as far as he could tell. No one had power, apparently.

Get going, he thought. Rally for another hour, or less, and you'll be at the loft. How tough could it be?

*****

Simon was right, Jim thought ruefully. The drunks had come out of the woodwork. Un-be-lievable. It was nearly 3AM; how many more could there be? This was becoming the theater of the absurd. He was half way through his extra stash of handcuffs with no end in sight. As he listened to the other officers on rounds, he could tell they were all losing it. Patterson, the most dour man he had ever met, had just had a fit of giggles on the radio. He'd rolled down the windows himself, using the biting cold to try to stay alert.

He was idling in the middle of an intersection. Even with the darkness, he had dialed up his vision and had great visibility down these major streets. In a few minutes he'd move about ten blocks and do it again.

A flash of movement caught his attention at the end of Taylor, at least ten blocks down. He could hear engines at full throttle. Three blobs, apparently ATV's racing down the middle of the deserted streets. Wishing for wings, Jim shifted into gear and called it in. He was going to need help or someone was going to end up dead.

*****

Fantastic! Jefferson had been blocked, but Adams was clear, with just a few cars lining the road. No power lines, no downed trees, just clear sailing. After hours of fumbling in the dark, with any luck, he could take 5th Street all the way to Prospect. Blair turned cautiously onto Adams, dreading the maneuver. The Volvo had no traction, and every corner he had to negotiate was nothing more than a controlled skid. What a nightmare. If he had to, he'd get some kind of a job, but he was getting new tires on this car. Either that or he was going to park it until spring.

*****

Jim pushed to a higher speed, cringing as he went. He wasn't close enough for the siren, but he was narrowing the distance between himself and the ATV's. Help was coming from at least two directions, and he was willing to bet Simon was on the move as well. He still had the windows down, tracking his quarry by sound as well as sight. He could tell they were peeling around another corner, when he heard the whoops of excitement changed to howls of fear, followed by a sickening crunch of metal and breaking glass. Jim grabbed the radio. "They've bought it - somewhere on 4th or 5th - send an ambulance." He could hear the answering sirens in the distance as he flipped on his own.

*****

He heard them coming. He tried to stop, but the Volvo spun sideways and drifted into the intersection anyway. The driver's side glass shattered as that side of the car crushed inward. His last view forward was of a huge treaded tire coming through the windshield.

*****

Jim was out of the vehicle before it stopped. A crumpled body lay on the pavement, a stain of red spreading beneath it. No helmet. Thrown God knew how many feet. He felt for a pulse, and listened for the flicker of a heartbeat. Nothing. This one was already gone.

He turned toward the wreck. One ATV had spun off into a side street. Its driver was sitting on the pavement, dazed but alive. The other two ATV's were buried in the side of a ...green...Volvo. Jim started running.

Another victim had apparently sailed over the roof of the car. He was alive, moaning, his leg twisted back underneath, clearly broken. Someone else could get him. Where was Sandburg?

Still in the car. He could hear Blair's ragged breathing. Jim jerked the passenger door open. Blair was stretched across the seat, feebly clawing at the seat cushions, trying to pull himself across the car. Jim grasped the outstretched hand.

"J - Jim?"

"Easy, Chief. Where do you hurt?"

"Okay...left arm...get me out."

Jim eased under his partner's outstretched right arm and grabbed Blair's belt with his other hand, pulling firmly. He heard Blair gasp with pain, but he was pushing with his legs, trying to help. He was on his own two feet just long enough for Jim to get him away from the vehicle. Jim got him to the ground quickly, pulling his own coat between Blair and the icy pavement.

"Ellison!" It was Patterson.

"Check the guy on the grass, and grab the first aid stuff. I need a blanket over here!"

He turned his attention back to Blair, searching out the worst injuries.

"Sorry," he heard the younger man murmur. "So sorry...everything."

Jim pulled him close to his chest, trying to steady the injured arm, hoping to keep him warm until medical help arrived. Even as Simon knelt by his side, doing the basic first aid, his mind was spinning. Sorry for what?

********

"They really need to redecorate in here. Being here with someone who's hurt is bad enough. Why pick the most depressing colors in North America?"

Simon flipped a dog-eared copy of National Geographic back onto the table and stared. "Ellison, you are losing it. Since when do you care about a color scheme? It must be delirium."

"I'm not delirious. I don't care, but it's still depressing." Jim closed his eyes, then caught himself drifting off. He snapped his head back, and finally stood, leaning against the wall.

"Sit down before you fall down, Detective. That's an order."

"I can't, Simon. I'll fall asleep, and I'm too tired to pace." Simon just gave him the silent stare that meant he was out of patience. Jim sat down, slumping into the lumpy plastic covered cushions. "Where is that doctor?"

"He'll be here. The other two guys came in at the same time. They're busy."

"Well, Sandburg's the innocent victim. He should come first. What the hell was he doing driving, anyway?"

"We'll have to ask him. Jim, I'm counting to ten. Here, be busy." Simon slapped a comment card onto Jim's thigh. "Fill out the card. Tell them to fire their decorator, whatever. Just don't drive me crazy."

Jim frowned, talking to himself as much as his Captain. "He said he was sorry. What's that all about? He nearly wrecks himself trying to be my partner, and he's sorry?" He started folding in each corner of the helpless comment card with military precision. "What is it with Sandburg? It's like we're reading the same book in two different languages."

"Ellison, I've seen wet puppies that look less pathetic. Why is the sky blue? Why don't I understand my ex-wife, or my teenage son, for that matter. Talk about different languages. I'll give you a suggestion - ASK HIM." He wasn't sure Jim heard him. A figure in surgical scrubs had appeared at the waiting room entrance, and Jim was already across the room.

"You here for Blair Sandburg?" The ER physician gazed up at the two police officers, both significantly taller than he was. No pressure here. "We've just finished setting his arm. He had a few cuts that needed stitches and a moderate concussion. We should keep him, but he's begging to leave. Is there anyone who can monitor him closely for the next twelve hours"

"I can." Jim answered quickly. "Where is he? I'll take care of the paperwork"

"You're Detective Ellison? If you'll forgive me, Detective, you look like we ought to admit you and keep both of you here. Does he have any family in town?"

"I'm his family," Jim answered firmly. "If Blair wants to come home, he's coming home." He was so focused on pressing his case, he didn't notice the wheelchair that had just come through the doors. He looked up to see his roommate. The expression on Blair's face looked - shocked, if that made sense. Had he overstepped his bounds? "You okay with this, Chief?" he asked the occupant of the wheelchair.

"I'm very okay with it." He seemed to struggle with the words, but he was smiling.

Simon cleared his throat, sensing that the two men were caught in a moment of their own. "I'll bring the car around and take you back to the loft. Doctor, why don't you let me take care of the paperwork. Are there any prescriptions to pick up?" With practiced skill, he glided away, leaving the two partners a little privacy.

Jim nodded to the orderly and took charge of the wheelchair. He pushed Blair through a set of double doors to wait for Simon. It was an outer entry room, populated only by a few plants. A large bank of windows looked out over the Cascade skyline. To the east, the sun was just cresting the mountains, casting a rosy glow over a landscape covered in glittering ice.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Now why did I say that? He's been in a car wreck and I ask him about the scenery. "Sorry if I spoke out of turn in there, Sandburg."

"Did you mean it? The part about family, and going home?" Blair was trying to twist around in the wheel chair, even though he winced in pain. Jim darted around to the other side of the wheel chair to face him.

"Of course I meant it. I get the feeling that when we're both a little more awake we have some misunderstandings to clear up." Jim watched Blair's face. Lit by the rising sun coming from behind him, the pale skin was flushed with the same rose tints as the morning sky. By the dawn's early light, thought Jim. Just like Naomi wanted.

"I'm sure I sound like a whining child, but I wasn't sure you wanted me around."

"Chalk that up to my communication skills, Chief. I can't imagine starting a new year without you."

"A new year. How poetic, Jim."

"Yup, that's me, Mr. Communication. Simon's here."

"Then get me out of here. Home, James."

Jim didn't answer. As long as Blair was coming home, everything else could wait.

The End